


So I'll Carry my Phaser in One Hand, and Your Love in the Other

by orphan_account



Series: what my hands hold [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: (i think), Crew as Family, Earth-Romulan War, Eventual Romance, Flirting, Fluff, Found Family, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Not These Are the Voyages (Star Trek) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, hypothetical season 5, oblivious!archer, they're so stupid you guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jon and Shran piece together a relationship under the looming threat of war with the romulans. War is never easy, but at least they know what they're fighting for.(My take on what season five of Enterprise might have looked like if the producers weren't cowards and it wasn't cancelled.)
Relationships: Jonathan Archer/Thy'lek Shran, Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Series: what my hands hold [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733263
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Archer gets new orders from Starfleet Command. Shran finds himself in a bit of trouble. Thanks to my wonderful new beta-reader, orchidlocked.

Jon stared out the front viewscreen in silence. The bridge crew was chatting half-heartedly around him, but all of them seemed tired and drawn. They were desperately in need of shore-leave; they had been off-planet for seven months without a breath of vacation. They had been running more diplomatic missions than ever and the exploring had been at an all time low. Jon was beginning to think that all exploring might be put on hold; tensions were building between Earth and its allies and the Romulans. Jon knew that Starfleet was expecting conflict, as they were handing out more missions close to the Romulan border than could be counted as coincidence.

“Captain,” Hoshi’s voice pulled Jon out of his thoughts. “Admiral Gardner for you.”

“Put him through to my ready room,” said Jon and stood up, nodding at T’Pol to take his place. He stepped into his ready room, and the door slid shut behind him. Gardner blinked onto the screen as Jon sat down.

“Captain Archer,” he greeted, his face grim.

“Admiral,” replied Jon. “What can I do for you?”

“We’ve been contacted by the Andorian Imperial Guard,” said Gardner. “One of their cruisers has disappeared. You’re closer to the cruiser’s last known location than any Andorian ships, they’re asking for your help.”

While the coalition they had signed less than a year prior had already proved helpful and supportive, it had added an entire list of new responsibilities for Starfleet. This wouldn’t be the first time _Enterprise_ had been pulled off course to help their new allies. Every time they heard from the Imperial Guard, it set a chill through Jon. Realistically, he knew that it would be unlikely Shran was involved, there were hundreds of Andorian ships out there, but he couldn’t prevent his own worry.

“They’re carrying sensitive information,” continued Gardner. “Information on Romulan movements, information that the Andorians have been sharing with Starfleet. It’s of the utmost importance that you find the _Silar_.” He didn’t recognise the name _Silar_ ; he knew Shran had been given a new command, but he didn’t know if this was it. Although, information reconnaissance had been on Shran’s radar more than once.

“What about the Rigelian delegation?” asked Jon. _Enterprise_ was on its way to pick up the Rigelian ambassador to Vulcan for trade negotiations.

“We already contacted them to let them know there would be a delay,” said Gardner. “ _Challenger_ is on its way, fresh out of space-dock.”

It wasn’t the first new ship out there. Starfleet had been reassigning engineering teams to get ships built and ready in the face of possible interstellar conflict.

“I’ll send you the relevant information, you’re only a few hours away and warp 4.5,” said Gardner. “Good luck, Captain.”

“Admiral,” said Jon before he could end the transmission. “My crew needs leave. They’re exhausted, we’ve had a massive increase of preventable injuries and more visits to sickbay that we had in the Delphic Expanse.”

Gardner sighed. “I know, Captain,” he said. “After this mission, come home. _Enterprise_ needs to be refitted with the latest technology anyways.”

“Thank you,” said Jon.

Gardner nodded. He blinked out of view and was replaced with incoming coordinates and, Archer noted, the _Silar_ ’s crew manifest. He hit the comm.

“Ensign Mayweather, change course,” he ordered. “Set a course for the coordinates on at your station, warp 4.5. All senior staff to the bridge.”

Jon opened the crew manifest and his chest clenched when he saw the name of the captain of the _Silar_. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. _Thy’lek Shran_. Jon’s hands shook as he forced himself to read over the other mission details. 

~~~

“That system is uninhabited, but it’s right on the edge of Romulan territory,” said Malcolm, looking down at the screen. “Are you sure it’s wise to get so close?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s wise or not,” said Jon, shaking his head. “Andoria is our ally, and if open conflict begins with the Romulans, we’ll want as many of their ships with us as possible. And the _Silar_ is carrying information about Romulan ship movements. Trip, how much power can be rerouted to the hull?”

“I can redirect it from auxiliary life-support, sir,” said Trip. “But it would be putting us in a risky position if we lose power from primary life-support.”

“Do it,” said Jon. “We have no idea what we’re walking into, for all we know there will be an armada of Romulan ships waiting for us. Malcolm, put us on tactical alert as soon as we drop out of warp. Dismissed.”

The senior staff dispersed to attend to their duties, but T’Pol lingered.

“Captain,” she said. “I trust that you are following Admiral Gardner’s orders, however I wanted to be sure that you aren’t allowing your personal feelings to interfere with this mission.” She looked him in the eye, her face blank. “I saw the crew manifest.”

“My personal feelings fit right in with the goal of this mission.” Jon didn’t bother denying his feelings towards Shran. T’Pol knew him too well for him to get away with that. “We were ordered to retrieve the _Silar_ , Shran just happens to be on board.”

“If you’re certain,” said T’Pol.

“I am, thank you, Commander,” said Jon, and he meant it. Their relationship had grown firm since Enterprise left space-dock for the first time. He trusted her to have his back no matter what- and to call him on his bullshit when he needed it. She nodded at him, her eyes betraying her stoic expression. Jon was certain he could read concern in her gaze, but she would never admit it. “I’ll be in my ready room.”

For the next few hours, Jon found himself contemplating his relationship with Shran. After the Babel crisis, as people had taken to calling it, Jon hadn’t heard much from him. Mostly just his name mentioned here and there. Jon had received a brief message from Shran a few weeks after the Terra Prime incident, telling him that Shran had been given a new command, but they likely wouldn’t be running into each other any time soon. He and Shran were friends, that much was certain, they had come to each other’s aid too many times for them not to be. As it always did when he thought about Shran, the scar on Jon’s thigh twinged, drawing Jon’s thoughts to one of their more recent encounters.

_I’ll take your blood to Andoria, to the wall of heroes._ The words echoed in Jon’s mind, an Andorian’s highest honour and Shran saw him worthy of it. _A single stroke, and there’ll be no pain._ Shran’s words were contrary to his expression. Jon could have sworn he saw pain flash in Shran’s eyes, saw his hand tremble as he clenched the _Ushaan-tor_ tighter. Jon debated whether or not that meant Shran felt more than friendship for him. Andorians were deeply loyal people, placing a heavy emphasis on their honour. If Shran saw him as an ally and a friend, that probably would have caused him enough grief during the _Ushaan_ , without any romantic feelings involved. Jon wasn’t even sure a relationship between two men was acceptable on Andoria. He knew how Shran felt about Andorian tradition, if being with Jon was too progressive it was likely Shran wouldn’t let it happen, even if he wanted it. Shran did allow a lot of physical contact, and he did make more than one excuse to spend time with Jon. Or maybe Jon was just projecting his own feelings onto the situation.

“What do you think, Porthos?” he murmured to the beagle who was curled at his feet. “Do you think Shran likes me?” He wrinkled his nose at the school-yard-crush-esque wording of the phrase. Porthos just yipped at him gently.

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” mused Jon. If he found Shran, ( _when_ he found Shran, _alive_ , Jon insistently corrected himself) Jon doubted he would even have the courage to ask Shran about his feelings.

“Captain to the bridge,” said Hoshi’s voice over the comm. Jon jerked into the present and stood up, stepping onto the bridge and taking his seat.

“We’re dropping out of warp, sir,” said Travis.

Jon felt the familiar, slight tug of the ship as it slowed to impulse and heard the tactical alert begin to sound.

“We’re picking up debris on sensors,” said T’Pol.

“From what?” demanded Jon, feeling his heart rate accelerate and his chest tighten.”

“A ship,” said Malcolm. “It could be Andorian, sir, but there isn’t an entire ship.”

“Any sign of the _Silar_?” asked Jon, his fingers curling into his arm rest.

“There is something in the atmosphere of the second gas giant,” said T’Pol. “It could be a ship, but the ammonia in the atmosphere is obscuring our sensors. If we get closer, I may be able to clarify the readings.”

“Set a course,” said Jon, and he watched the planet come into focus on the viewscreen. _Please be out there_ , he thought desperately, _and be alright_.

“More debris,” said Malcolm. “Looks like the reactor of a small ship blew. I’m reading residuals from Andorian weapon’s fire, but the energy readings from the ship appear to be Romulan, sir.”

“Hopefully that was the only Romulan ship here,” said Jon, tempted to physically cross his fingers. “Put us in synchronous orbit with whatever is in the atmosphere.”

Travis complied and T’Pol leaned over her sensors.

“It doesn’t appear to be stuck, sir,” she said. “It’s moving out of the atmosphere, coming toward us.” She looked up at Jon. “It’s the _Silar_ , sir.”

“Hail them,” he ordered, standing from his chair.

“No reply,” said Hoshi.

“They’ve taken damage,” said Malcolm. “They don’t have warp, they’re on auxiliary life-support, it’s possible their comm system is down.”

Jon nodded and T’Pol spoke again. “They appear to be trying to dock, sir,”

“Extend the port,” ordered Jon. “Malcolm you’re with me.”

Jon waited impatiently as the turbolift moved down, and barely kept himself to a walk when it came to a stop. When they arrived at the airlock, he clasped his hands tightly behind his back and bit the inside of his cheek. The doors slid open, revealing Shran standing on the other side and Jon breathed a sigh of relief.

“Commander,” he said. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”

“More or less,” said Shran as he limped forward. “Do you have beds in medbay you can spare?”

“Of course,” said Jon. “Bring your people in.”

Shran gestured at the Andorian behind him, who disappeared back into the _Silar_. Jon motioned for Malcolm to go with him to lend his help. After a firm handshake, Jon fell into step beside Shran, guiding him to the infirmary.

“What happened?” Jon asked.

“We were sent to begin collecting information on patrol movements in the neighbouring systems,” explained Shran. “The Imperial Guard wanted to know if the Romulans are amassing ships somewhere. We were also looking for a suitable place to set up a long-range sensor array. We got the information we needed and we were about to head back to Andorian space to deliver our findings when a Romulan ship decloaked off our port side, we barely destroyed them and kept the _Silar_ intact.

“The Imperial Guard contacted Starfleet asking for our help when you disappeared,” said Jon. “We were only a few hours away at warp.”

“Thank you, pinkskin,” said Shran, and despite his limp and his current situation, he smiled at Jon. “This makes us even again. Took you long enough to catch up after the confrontation with the Vulcans.”

“I wasn’t even there for that,” said Jon, with fake indignation.

“It’s your ship,” teased Shran, lightly. “Your responsibility.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” said Jon, pressing the button for entrance to sickbay.

Phlox looked up as they came in, immediately coming towards them with a tricorder.

“Commander,” he greeted, looking the Andorian up and down. “I told you your antenna would be back in no time. Please sit, I’ll examine your leg.”

Shran bristled. “Many of my crew will be joining us,” he said stiffly. “Treat them first.”

“But you’re here,” said Phlox mildly. “And it doesn’t look like it will take very long to be stabilized. Not to mention that your crew is better off when their commander is in good shape.”

When Jon gave Shran a brief glance, he relented and pulled himself to sit on one of the beds while Phlox ran his scanner along the leg. Phlox announced his findings with cheer in his voice as he gathered his tools. A moment later, Andorians began to flood the infirmary supported by Malcolm and their crewmates. As if on cue, Phlox gave Shran a hypospray and let him get up.

“Join me in the captain’s mess?” asked Jon, allowing Shran to leave before him.

~~~

Dinner was the strange combination of personal and professional that tended to accompany Shran and Jon through all their conversations. Shran talked about his new ship and his growing friendship with Jhamel. Jon talked about diplomatic missions, missing exploration and Trip’s proposal plans. They both talked about the looming war; the Andorians had never faced a threat quite so ominous as the Romulans, and humans were barely out in space, woefully underprepared for interstellar war.

Jon kept a firm grip on the glass of bourbon he had poured, breaking his gaze away from Shran’s face to look into the drink. “Sometimes, I think we’re moving too fast,” he said honestly. “That maybe the Vulcans were right, humanity wasn’t ready to leave our system and come out so far.” He wondered, internally, how he was so easily vulnerable with Shran. After all, not so long ago they were enemies. Even now they were just two people who commanded two ships that ran into each other every few months. It forced Jon to question if they were truly friends, or just two lonely people who found companionship in somebody faced with the same burdens.

“Listen to me, pinkskin,” said Shran, his voice was firm. Jon looked up as Shran made eye contact with him. “The Vulcans are rarely right, and if they thought you weren’t ready, it’s because they held you back. Leaving your system the first time will always be a risk. You were as ready as you could be. Without you Andoria would be at war. Twice.”

“I don’t know if I can prevent this war,” admitted Jon.

“Sometimes it’s inevitable,” conceded Shran. “But if all pinkskins are anything like you, you have something worth fighting a war for.”

Jon didn’t respond, instead he stared at Shran, who stared back at him. His antennae were bent towards Jon, a mark, Jon had learned, of sincerity. The moment stretched between them, leaving Jon feeling open and raw. Maybe it was the bourbon in his system or maybe it was just Shran. At some point, Shran’s hand had moved to rest on Jon’s arm across the table, he squeezed lightly and let go, breaking the moment.

“I should return to the _Silar_ ,” he said.

“I’ll escort you there,” said Jon, standing up. They walked to the airlock in comfortable silence and Jon watched Shran leave _Enterprise_. He missed Shran from the moment he began walking back towards his quarters. Jon wasn’t sure when Shran’s presence had become such a comfort to him, the more he thought about it the stranger it seemed. Each of their encounters had involved both violence between their people as well as a necessary trust between them. Maybe it was the thought that whatever happened, Jon would always come back to trusting Shran that made Jon so comforted by him. Jon stared at himself in his mirror, noting the pajamas and his minty breath. He hadn’t even noticed that he had gotten himself ready for bed. He sighed and moved across his quarters to his bed, patting Porthos’ head on his way. He slipped under the covers and pulled them up to his chin.

“Lights to zero percent.”

~~~

The _Silar_ and _Enterprise_ had been docked for three days, and both crews were practically on friendly terms. Despite their fresh alliance, it was still a strange sight, and one that Jon thought might take awhile for everybody to get used to. Trip had practically lived on the _Silar_ for the past three days, working day and night to repair their systems. Everybody was feeling overworked and under rested but nobody wanted to be here with an unrepaired ship if more Romulans showed up. The crew of _Enterprise_ was especially exhausted, and even more people continued to turn up in sickbay with cuts and burns.

Jon and Shran had spent almost the entire three days by each other’s side; even their communication with their superiors happened together. Shran met Admiral Gardner, and when he had flickered off the screen Shran had turned to look at Jon, looking pained. “Not all pinkskins are like you,” he had said mournfully.

Jon also had the, hmm, _pleasure_ of meeting Shran’s direct superior, General Thiluh, who eyed him with suspicion the entire time and turned off his translator for a few minutes so he could speak to Shran in Andorian. Shran assured him that it was just a security protocol, and that they hadn’t spoken about him at all. His right antenna twitched back when he said this though, and Jon didn’t believe him. He didn’t push the matter, however, and agreed to whatever Shran was saying at the time.

Jon was alone in his ready room when the door chimed, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted and the prospect of talking to anybody made him feel more drained. He called back a response and the door slid open to reveal Malcolm, who looked twitchy. He stepped inside and paced for a moment then sat down.

What can I do for you, Malcolm?” he asked, fighting back a yawn.

“Can I speak to you about a personal matter?” asked Malcolm.

“Go for it,” said Jon, but internally he was wondering why he couldn’t wait until the morning, after Jon had gotten his four hours of sleep.

Malcolm slid his hand into his pocket and then set whatever he just retrieved on Jon’s desk in front of him. Jon recognized it as a ring box. He blinked at it then reached forward and picked it up. He opened it and stared at the ring inside, it was simple. It looked to be made of titanium with overlapping bands of something dark.

"Titanium,” said Malcolm. “With nausican black diamonds, supposedly one of the hardest gemstones in the galaxy. I got it in that market we went to on Kaminar.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Jon. “But I’m not sure your boyfriend would be happy if you gave this to me.”

“Very funny, sir,” said Malcolm, but he didn’t laugh. “It’s for Trip.”

“I should hope so,” said Jon. “Now, what do you need me for?”

Malcolm was stiff in his shoulders- more so than usual, his jaw clenched. “I wanted to ask for your blessing,” he said. “You are his best friend and you’ve known him for so long-”

Jon tuned him out for a moment in shock, Malcolm was asking for his blessing, a somewhat antiquated tradition but it made sense that Malcolm of all people would ask for one. Jon had little doubt that Trip had somehow gotten in touch with Malcolm’s sister to ask for her blessing. Jon felt much more awake, suddenly this conversation felt like the most important in the world. When he tuned back in, Malcolm was finishing his spiel.

“Tell me about Trip,” said Jon, leaning forward and handing the box back to Malcolm.

“Sir?”

“Trip. The man you want to marry,” said Jon. “Tell me about him, how you feel about him. Tell me why you want to marry him.”

Malcolm looked uncomfortable at the prospect, Jon expected no less, Malcolm wasn’t one to be open with his feelings. Though, Jon thought affectionately, if this was four years ago Malcolm would have stopped the conversation right here. Actually he never would have started the conversation in the beginning.

“He’s a good man, sir,” said Malcolm, his voice slightly stilted. He sounded as though he was trying to suppress the sheer feeling he had for Trip.“There’s nobody else I would trust more with my life and nobody else I would ever want to spend my life with-” and at that Jon could see Malcolm’s eyes clear and his posture relaxed, just thinking about Trip. “- He’s everything. He loved me and stood by my side when I least deserved it, he knows everything, seen every part of me and the way he looks at me has never changed. I’ve known him for four years now and some days I look at him and it still feels like I’ve been hit with a phase pistol. He’s so gentle and open and confident and I’m the opposite of all that, he balances me out in a way nobody else ever has. I would give anything to see him safe and happy for the rest of his life.”

Jon smiled and held up a hand, preventing Malcolm from going any further. “You have my blessing,” he said. “Trip’s a very lucky man.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes, sir?” asked Malcolm, his voice quiet. Jon didn’t think he’d ever seen the man more vulnerable. And fuck, that was love wasn’t it, making you vulnerable in the way that matters most. Shran flashed in Jon’s mind at the thought, as Jon remembered the conversation from a few nights ago. He shoved it away and focused on Malcolm.

“I’ve watched you two for four years,” he said. “And I watched you dance around each other for eighteen months, and I watched you finally get over yourselves and date until now. I will tell you honestly, I’ve never seen Trip look at anyone the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him act like that with anybody. Everything you just said? I know he feels the exact same way about you. He’ll say yes.” Jon left out the fact that Trip was hiding a ring of his own.

Malcolm smiled genuinely and then he quickly fell back into a professional stance. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “We have a dinner planned for a few nights from now. Would it be possible for us to use the-”

“Trip already asked if you can use the captain’s mess,” interrupted Jon. “And I said yes. Is that when you’re going to…”

“Yes, I plan to,” said Malcolm, nodding. “Thank you again, sir.”

“You’re welcome, lieutenant,” said Jon. Malcolm left, and as he left he almost walked straight into Shran who was on the other side of the door. Of course he would show up, thought Jon, just when Jon was thinking about love and marriages. Fuck, did he want to _marry_ Shran? He had no idea what an Andorian wedding would even look like, or an Andorian marriage. He didn’t even know if Andorians had life long partners. Their traditionalist and deeply loyal society implied that they might. The Vulcan database would probably have that information, but any research Jon might indulge in would have to wait. He made eye contact with Shran in the doorway.

“Come in, Commander,” he said, attempting to squash his feelings back.

“You and the lieutenant both look rather pleased,” said Shran, looking amused as he sat down in the seat Malcolm had just vacated.

“He’s planning to propose to Trip,” said Jon, with a chuckle. “On the same night Trip is planning to propose to him. He came to ask for my blessing.”

“Your blessing?” asked Shran, looking somewhat appalled. “They don’t see you as some kind of religious figure, do they?” The Andorian’s expression lead Jon to think he was trying to figure out how he had missed a religious dynamic all this time.

“No absolutely not.” Jon chuckled. “You didn’t miss that. It’s a human tradition, one that isn’t always followed anymore, but many people still do it. The person planning to propose goes to somebody who is close to their partner, traditionally the man asks the woman’s father. The important thing is that it’s somebody who the person proposing wants to make sure will approve of them as a choice. For example, Trip asked Malcolm’s sister for her blessing as Malcolm’s parents have a… _questionable_ relationship with their son.”

“Why didn’t the lieutenant ask for Trip’s parents’ blessing?” asked Shran, looking genuinely curious.

Jon shrugged. “He might have,” he said. “But he might have gone to me because he thinks I mattered more.”

“And who would one go to if they were planning on proposing to you?”

Jon thought for a moment. “My dad is dead, but my mom is still alive,” he said. “I would guess Trip, though. He’s my best friend and I value his opinion. Or T’Pol, she mothers me enough these days. The entire senior staff is practically my family now.”

Shran's expression looked as though the information was incredibly valuable to him, Jon couldn’t imagine why he seemed so invested in human culture.

“Was there something I could do for you besides explain human wedding traditions?” asked Jon finally.

“I actually came to make sure you were going to get some sleep,” said Shran. “My ship picked up two Romulan warships on their way here-”

“And you think I should sleep?” Jon interrupted, standing. Shran glared him into sitting again.

“On Andoria it’s rude to interrupt,” said Shran. Jon rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. “What I was going to say was that the Romulans are still 13 hours away at their maximum warp. Your sensors haven’t picked them up yet because our long-range are far better than yours. I was going to suggest you get some sleep because you’ll want to be as alert as possible when you get there. I assume that some of your subordinates can prepare as well as you can while you rest.”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Will you sleep?”

“Andorians don’t need as much-”

“Bullshit,” said Jon. “I’ll sleep as long as you sleep.”

Shran, apparently, did not like that idea very much and glared at Jon, a look Jon was getting far too used to seeing aimed at him. Jon stared at him back.

“Fine,” Shran said, eventually. “I’ll sleep.”

Jon squinted as he looked the Andorian in the face. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

Shran looked indignant. “What are you going to do about it, pink-skin?” he asked, sarcasm lacing his tone. “Assign one of your officers to make sure that I sleep for six hours?”

“I’m considering it,” replied Jon, only half-joking. “But since we’ve done so well building our current alliance on mutual trust, I’ll take you at your word.”

“Well,” said Shran. “If our alliance is at stake, then I’ll make sure to go to sleep right away.”

“In that case,” said Jon with a smile. “Good night, Commander. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Shran looked strained, as though he was physically preventing himself from asking what bed bugs were. He stood still in awkward silence, Jon felt obligated to explain, to fill the silence.

“It’s a rhyme,” said Jon. “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite. Bed bugs are small insects on earth that sometimes infest human dwellings and-”

“Archer,” interrupted Shran, sounding pained. “I really don’t want to know. Sleep well, and don’t let any… _bed bugs_ bite you, either.”

~~~

Jon woke up from his Shran-mandated sleep feeling rested, but anxious. He went immediately to the bridge where T’Pol was waiting for him.

“They’re on our sensors,” she said. “Seven hours away.”

“Any chance we could go to warp before they get here?” asked Jon, dreading another confrontation with the Romulans.

“ _Enterprise_ could, sir,” said T’Pol. “The _Silar_ could not. And their crew complement is too large for Enterprise to carry, and several are in critical condition and can’t be moved from the _Silar_ ’s infirmary.”

“Remember when we shared our warp field with _Columbia_?” asked Archer. “Could we do that with the _Silar_?”

“No, Captain,” said T’Pol. “If we are to stay with Commander Shran and his crew, we have to remain here. There is something else, there are several Andorian cruisers on their way, Commander Shran had contacted the Imperial Guard as soon as he picked up the Romulans.”

“How long?” asked Jon.

“Eight hours,” said T’Pol. Jon heaved a sigh, an hour difference was a long time.

“What are our options?” asked Jon, just as Shran entered the bridge followed closely by his first-officer and Malcolm. Shran looked well-rested, his eyes were brighter and his antennae were on full alert. It gave Jon a thrill of satisfaction knowing that Shran had followed through with their deal and slept as well.

“I assume we’re discussing how we’re going to evade the Romulan for an hour until the Andorians arrive,” said Malcolm. Jon nodded

“We don’t have many options,” said Malcolm. “Trip and the Andorian engineers have been working on it, but Andorian weapons are out.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re useless, Archer,” said Shran.

“I wouldn’t doubt it for a minute,” said Jon, dryly and Shran looked at him sharply, Jon thought he saw a glimmer of approval

In the end, they had come up with a solution that involved no weapons-fire. _Enterprise_ and the _Silar_ would descend as deep into the gas giant’s atmosphere as was possible without getting crushed. Thanks to a healthy cooperation between _Enterprise_ ’s engineers and science officers and those of the _Silar_ , they were able to go several kilometres deeper than normal. The _Silar_ had dropped a probe on to the second planet in the system to generate a false subspace signal and energy readings. With forty minutes until the arrival of the Romulans, the two vessels had begun their descent into the deep shifting blue gases of the planet. Jon stood in the mess hall, staring out the window as they descended. Sunlight filtered through the gas and cast an eerie blue glow into the room. Jon had to admit he was worried, the gases in the atmosphere would completely obscure their sensors, and if they were wrong and the Romulan sensors did pick them up, the Romulans would have the advantage to attack them with no warning. It wasn’t a situation Jon was happy to be in.

He was joined by T’Pol, who stood beside him, looking out into the gas.

“You’re anxious,” she stated.

“I have good reason,” said Jon. “I feel powerless. We’re actively doing nothing.”

T’Pol inclined her head. “Actively doing nothing, as you say, is what is currently protecting us.”

Jon sighed. “Do you think this war is inevitable?”

“Statistically,” said T’Pol. “Nothing is inevitable. However, given the circumstances, I would say an outright conflict with the Romulans is highly likely.”

Jon knew this, of course, this wasn’t the first conversation he had had with T’Pol about it. Sometimes he felt as though he was just going through the motions, with the same missions, same meals, same conversations, over and over until something would finally break. Sometimes he felt as though he would rather the war just start already, like he had been circling in a fight for hours waiting to see who would throw the first punch.

“I’m just glad the conference went well in the end,” said Jon, referring to the formation of the Coalition of Planets after the Terra Prime debacle. “At least we’ll have a few allies when the time comes.”

“More than just allies, I hope,” said a familiar, booming voice, Commander and Captain turned to see Shran leaning against the wall by the door.

“Commander,” said T’Pol. “I assume the _Silar_ ’s structural integrity is holding.”

“Of course it is,” said Shran. “Our engineers work quickly and efficiently.”

The Andorian joined them at the window, standing barely a hair-breadth away from Jon. “The _Silar_ is being recalled,” said Shran, but he didn’t appear to be upset. “Temporarily. I just got off a call with the Imperial Guard before we entered the atmosphere. Some new technology has just been developed on Andoria and considering the circumstances, the _Silar_ is going to be completely refitted. It will take several months.”

“Will you be given a new command?” asked Jon.

“Not precisely,” said Shran, and he had that small smile on his face. Jon had seen it before, a year ago in sickbay before Shran had learned Tellerites were on board. “The Imperial Guard and Starfleet have been in talks,” continued Shran. “I’m sure you know of them. They recently decided that during this time of heightened tension, there should be a liaison of sorts, aboard a Starfleet vessel. Since I have a history of working well with humans, Starfleet requested me. The Imperial Guard was happy to meet their request.”

“I see,” said Jon, which vessel would Shran be aboard? He couldn’t help thinking that they would stop accidentally running into each other if he was on a different Starfleet vessel. “What ship will they put you on?”

Shran's antennae curled in slightly and he stared at Jon, his face incredulous. Jon glanced at T’Pol who had her lips pursed and an eyebrow raised. Jon frowned, what- oh!

“Of course,” he said. “You’ll be serving on _Enterprise_.”

“If you’ll have me, pinkskin,” said Shran, his smile back in place.

“Of course,” replied Jon, a smile also spreading across his face. “I look forward to our partnership.” He stuck out an arm and Shran clasped it. “Welcome aboard, Commander.”

~~~

The halls were all eerily empty. Most nonessential systems had been shut down to diminish any energy readings from them, even the lights were dimmed and the crew spoke in hushed tones as though their voices would carry all the way to the Romulan ships that were now prowling the system above their heads. There were still twenty-three minutes until the Andorian ships were scheduled to arrive. Jon sat in the captain’s chair, just waiting. T’Pol was constantly checking scanners, dutifully looking for anything slightly out of the ordinary. Malcolm sat ramrod stiff at his station, his fingers resting on the controls to bring the phase cannons on line (despite the knowledge that there was potential to ignite the surrounding methane). Travis also sat at his station, his hands also rested on the controls at his station, ready to go to impulse at the first sign of trouble. Hoshi was singularly focused on the comms, every so often reporting “just background subspace”. Shran had gone back to the _Silar_.

Jon wondered if the Andorians were equally as tense, he couldn’t picture Shran so unsettled. Angry, upset, sure, but never unsettled. He could see him sitting in his own chair calmly, waiting comfortably.

Jon’s thoughts drifted to the prospect of Shran being permanently aboard _Enterprise_ , he had already decided which quarters Shran would be assigned. Coincidentally, the nicest empty quarters just happened to be down the hall from captain’s quarters. He would probably be on the bridge most of the time, thought Jon. As such a liaison would practically be part of the senior staff. Jon smiled at the thought of working so closely with Shran, the Andorian would be an invaluable advisor. He had more military experience than any MACOs and he was familiar with most of the species involved in current interstellar politics. He jolted himself out of the thoughts before he could ruminate on other possible, more personal reasons he wanted Shran on board.

“Time?” he asked.

“Any minute now, sir,” said Malcolm, he shifted in his seat.

“They should have arrived 47 seconds ago,” provided T’Pol.

“Are we picking up any weapon’s fire?”

“No,” said T’Pol. “Even if there was, it’s likely we would not see it on sensors.”

Jon barely held back a sigh and twitched impatiently, a few long minutes dragged by. Before Hoshi perked up, looking quickly back at Jon. “We’re being hailed,” she said. “It’s on andorian frequencies, sir.”

“On screen,” ordered Jon, sitting up in his chair. The viewscreen lit up with a blurry view of an unfamiliar Andorian.

“Cap- cher,” she said stiltedly. “The- interfering- commun-.”

“Can you hear me clearly?” asked Jon, glancing at Hoshi who was scrambling to compensate. After a few moments, the video cleared and the Andorian’s voice came through clearly.

“I apologize for the interference,” said Jon.

The Andorian dismissed it. “I am Commander Sora of the _Eshel_ ,” she said. “The Romulans have left the system, we outnumbered them and I presume they didn’t like their chances.”

“You have our thanks,” said Jon.

“And you have ours,” said Sora, inclining her head. “For coming to the aid of one of our ships.”

Jon nodded and cut the transmission. “Bring all power and engines online.” He hit a button on his armrest. “This is Captain Archer to all hands, prepare to leave the atmosphere.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of _Enterprise_ gets some much needed shore-leave. Jon shows Shran what he really loves about Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised. It's still the weekend for me, but probably not for some of you. (Sorry) Chapter 3 is kicking my ass a little, but it will be here sooner rather than later. Thanks to my beta orchidlocked.

Two weeks had passed since  _ Enterprise _ had helped the  _ Silar _ on the Romulan border. Shran was a permanent resident onboard  _ Enterprise _ and he had settled into his position comfortably. To Jon’s surprise (though, it shouldn’t have been) Shran and Malcolm had become fast- well, not friends, but fast allies. Jon was almost jealous of the amount of time they spent together pouring over tactics and weaponry. They seamlessly filled in each other’s gaps and mistakes, making them one of Starfleet’s biggest assets. Otherwise, Shran spent a great deal of time hovering over Jon’s shoulder as he worked, getting to know the ins and outs of Starfleet policy and politics. 

Now  _ Enterprise _ was on her way home, the crew having finally been granted six days of leave while  _ Enterprise _ got a small refit. The coalition had encouraged a tentative and gradual exchange of technology, giving Starfleet better firepower, and the Andorians were busy integrating transporters into their ships. The refit would mostly be used to install Andorian weaponry, which significantly outmatched  _ Enterprise _ ’s. Now that war was only a breath away, Starfleet command wouldn’t be taking any more shit from captains about whether or not they were vessels of exploration or not. Jon was content not to give them any. Most other captains hadn’t yet encountered the Romulans, but Jon had and he knew that the storm coming wouldn’t be one easily weathered. Officially, exploring had been put on hold indefinitely. The risk of a ship being caught too far from home and too far from the fight was too high.

It was a weight off of Jon’s back that after months of requests and complaints they were getting shore-leave. He was almost confident that Phlox had only been one more avoidable injury away from his fourth official complaint to Starfleet command. He was convinced that Phlox’s first three complaints were the only reason they were getting any leave at all instead of being put into a weapons training session as soon as their feet hit the ground. He voiced this one evening to Shran, Trip, and T’Pol as they ate supper in the captain’s mess.

“Is it normal for Starfleet to treat their people like slaves?” asked Shran in his signature drawl.

“Extraordinary circumstances.” Jon stabbed a rogue carrot.

Trip cut at his chicken with a tired vengeance. “Extraordinary circumstances, extraordinary expectations. The engineers at Jupiter station are getting the most detailed report of the shuttlebay doors anybody has ever written.” He glared at his salad. “I have to check every system personally and write a report on everything.”

T’Pol cast him a disapproving glance. “It is likely Starfleet command is requiring such inspection and detail because they are anxious of a Romulan attack, and rightfully so.”

Trip mumbled something that Jon couldn’t make out but he was sure wasn’t politely directed at the first officer of the ship. T’Pol didn’t quite roll her eyes, but she certainly would have if she were human. Shran glanced at Jon to see if there would be repercussions, Jon just shrugged. The four officers sat in silence until Jon took a bite of his chicken and changed the subject.

“What are your plans for leave?”

Trip brightened immediately. “Malcolm and I are spending six days on the bank of the French Riviera, sunshine, fresh air, and some peace and quiet.”

“I will be staying in Ambassador Soval’s home,” said T’Pol. “We have been messaging recently on the subject of the Kir’Shara, it will be agreeable to discuss Surak’s teachings in person.”

“Sounds enlightening.” Jon turned to Shran. “Do you have any idea what you’ll be doing for leave?”

“I have a few meetings with your command on the first day,” shrugged Shran. “But I’ve never been to Earth so I’m not sure what to plan for.”

Jon perked up at the opportunity. “I could show you around San Francisco,” he offered, entertaining a hope that Shran would accept. “That’s where Starfleet Headquarters are and it’s a beautiful city.”

“I would like that, pinkskin,” said Shran. Jon’s heart fluttered.

“I was planning on going climbing too,” said Jon. “I could take you to see-”

“Don’t take the poor man to Yosemite,” interrupted Trip, jabbing his fork in Jon’s direction. “Show him around the cities like a normal person.”

“I never said I was taking him to Yosemite,” said Jon indignantly. 

“You take everybody to Yosemite,” accused Trip with a withering stare. “You’ve taken me to Yosemite, I fell halfway down a cliff. You and AG used to go all the time, cap’n Hernandez said you went to Yosemite the last leave we had on Earth.”

“Shran might love Yosemite.” Jon glowered. “Did you hate it so much?”

Trip rolled his eyes. “Like I said, I fell halfway down a cliff. I nearly broke my neck.”

“But you didn’t,” said John. “Besides, Shran has more experience climbing than you did. And he would enjoy the challenge.”

“You should just-”

“I’ll go where you go,” Shran cut in more gracefully than Jon would expect. T’Pol looked grateful that he had broken up the spat. Shran continued. “If Archer enjoys his time in this Yosemite so much, I’m sure I won’t be bored.”

Jon gave him a winning smile and shot a triumphant look at Trip, who scoffed. “Great! We’ll be there in time for the firefall, I’ve never had the chance to see it before.”

“Firefall?” Shran raised his eyebrows.

Jon waved it away. “It’s not really fire, you’ll see.”

~~~

Shran seemed exasperated by all the meetings and questions he had to sit through, Jon attended some of them and was suitably amused. Shran, while an excellent commander and a functional diplomat, wasn’t overly patient with having to sit through meeting after meeting about duties and whatever.

“Your city is beautiful,” said Shran as they walked out of headquarters. “Very colourful. The landscape on Andoria is most often white or grey.” 

“It’s nice to be home sometimes,” conceded Jon, then tilted his head to look up. “Maybe it’s just because I grew up here, but being on a starship surrounded by nothing and everything will always feel more like home.”

They stepped onto a transport that would take them to a Thai place further down the shoreline. “I joined the Imperial Guard as part of a military career,” said Shran, sitting down closer to Jon than was conventional. “I never even considered the prospect of joining so I could see the wonders of the galaxy or whatever it is you Starfleet people do.”

“Humans left behind that kind of military imperialism a long time ago,” said Jon. “It was more trouble than it was worth.”

“You humans pursued imperialism at all?” Shran sounded surprised. “You’re all so peaceful and sickeningly moral.”

“We almost destroyed ourselves.” Jon shrugged. “The Vulcans made contact with us directly out of a nuclear winter.”

Shran made a curious noise in the back of his throat. “Is that why you’re so afraid of war with the Romulans? You’re worried that the cost might be the civilization you’ve reformed yourselves into?”

Jon considered the question for a long while, watching the ocean blur past out the window. Deep down maybe there were some who were worried an interstellar war could turn humanity into the destructive force it had been barely a century earlier. Jon wasn’t sure that was something he wanted to see, but he was pretty sure humanity was capable of it again. If the Terra Prime incident had showed anything, it had shown that humanity’s foray into space and the interstellar community had potential to bring out aspects of humans that they had tried so hard to bury.

“Archer?’ Shran pushed.

“I don’t know,” said Jon honestly. “We’ve tried so hard to bury that part of ourselves, humanity’s history is more than a little bloody. I know we seem tame and uptight about our morals to you, but that’s because we’ve been taught that if we let our grip on our morals slip we might destroy ourselves in the process.”

“How do the Romulans factor in?” The transport stopped and Shran and Archer both stepped out, moving to the entrance of the restaurant they had stopped in front of. Jon had time to sort out his answer as they were seated and handed the menus.

“We’re not so pacifist that we won’t fight back, I think we’ll fight back until we have no choice anymore,” Jon said, setting aside the menu. “But in our history the cost of war has always been higher than acceptable.”

“Andorians aren’t so afraid of war,” admitted Shran as though that part of their culture wasn’t obvious. “Defending what is ours has always been one of Andoria’s top priorities.”

“You mean it has nothing to do with your pride and inherent paranoia?” asked Jon, seeing the opportunity to lighten the conversation.

“It’s not paranoia when the Vulcans are actually spying on you and planning an invasion,” said Shran and Jon had to admit he had a point.

Jon made some comment about not being able to eat during such a heavy conversation and they let the conversation drift to more physical differences between Earth and Andoria. They were nearly kicked out of the restaurant when they got into a heated debate about whether Andorians could feasibly go vegetarian. Jon argued yes for argument’s sake and Shran vehemently argued no because “even with their advanced technology, plant life is still scarce in an Andorian climate” and also because Andorians were too proud to lose such an important cultural tradition. It came to an end when Shran finally stopped responding to Jon’s shallow teases and ignored him all the way back to Jon’s apartment.

~~~

Shran had taken an interest in San Francisco but he seemed more relaxed once they got out of the city and into Yosemite Park. Jon didn’t know whether Shran’s ease was due to the distance from such an unfamiliar culture or because of the cooler, dryer weather away from the coast, or some combination of both. Nevertheless, Jon relished the time they spent alone together. 

“Where exactly are we going?” asked Shran, somewhat irritably as Jon led him off the beaten path and into the trees.

“The public viewing areas get really crowded during the firefall,” explained Jon. “I’m taking you somewhere my dad used to take me, somewhere a little more private with an equally good view. Although it’s a bit of a challenge to get there.”

“What does a bit of a challenge mean, Archer?” Shran’s voice was skeptical.

“Well, I didn’t have us drag all this climbing gear out into the wilderness for nothing,” said Jon. “It’s a short climb, it won’t take too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it, pinkskin,” said Shran. “I’m trusting you not to lead me to my death.”

Jon laughed. “I’ve made the climb a half a dozen times and I’m still here.” he tossed a cloth bag at Shran. “Pickup some firewood on the way, then you can strap it to your pack with the bag.”

Shran grumbled but did as he was told, Jon also collected some wood into his own bag so the weight would be evenly split between them. They came onto a rocky outcropping overlooking the valley. 

“Here we are,” said Jon cheerfully and slid his pack off his shoulders so he could fish out his climbing gear. 

They both wiggled into their harnesses and Jon made sure Shran was familiar with all the equipment, which was similar to Andorian ice-climbing equipment, but with subtle differences. They carefully balayed themselves over the edge of the cliff, facing the cliff-face and slowly moved down. Jon kept an eye on Shran, but he seemed to be comfortable and managing the steep climb. 

“This is easier than ice-climbing,” said Shran eventually. “None of my body parts are going numb and I’m not melting the cliff-face.”

“Good,” said Jon. “It wasn’t meant to be overly difficult. I don’t think Jhamel would appreciate it if I lead her brother to his death during a climbing incident. She would probably never forgive me.”

Shran huffed above him. “Two things pinkskin,” he complained. “One, I’m not her brother. Two, Jhamel would forgive almost everybody for almost anything, it’s one of her faults.”

“I saw how quickly you got protective of her.” Jon noted they were about two-thirds down the cliff-face. “And besides, forgiveness isn't necessarily a fault, she’s young, it’s in her nature to be optimistic.”

“She’s too young to be hanging around a soldier like me.” Shran’s face was unreadable when Jon looked up to try and see his expression. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Jon, looking back down so he could find a hold for his foot.

“She’s been through too much for her to get so close to soldiers when war is coming,” said Shran. “I didn’t mean for her to get so attached.”

“You didn’t mean for her to get attached to you, or you didn’t mean for you to get so attached to her?” Jon wasn’t certain he was directing the conversation into safe territory, but at the same time he couldn’t help but pry into Shran’s more personal life. He stood up straight as his feet hit solid ground.

“Both.” Shran grunted as he lowered himself the last foot to the bottom of the climb. “It’s one more thing I have to lose, and for her. Well, serving in the Imperial Guard isn’t the safest occupation. If I die I don’t want her to-”

“Stop it,” said Jon firmly. “You won’t die.”

“That’s a pointless statement to make when we’re on the verge of war, pinkskin,” said Shran as he unclipped his harness from the rope. 

“You aren’t going to die,” repeated Jon, mostly for his own benefit.

“I know you’re naive, Archer,” said Shran. His voice had lost its friendly edge and he didn’t look Jon in the face. “But I didn’t take you for a fool. This is war we’re talking about. Interstellar war. I don’t care how desperate you are to hold on to your morals so you don’t regress, there will be casualties and I might be one of them. That’s the way that it is.”

“Not when you’re part of my crew,” said Jon. “I protect my crew.”

“Like you protected them all during the Xindi crisis?” Shran’s voice was downright cold and Jon barely stopped himself from flinching. “That’s not a sign of bad leadership, it’s a sign of war. And during war, no leader can protect everybody.”

“I will never sit back and watch you die,” swore Jon. “If it came down to it, it would be my life for yours.”

Shran turned to face him, his face stony. “Then you want me to sit back and watch you die? Is that what you want to happen?” His voice grew in intensity. “What part about war don’t you understand? You aren’t exploring anymore!”

“I know that!” Jon finally snapped. “Don’t you think I already know that? Don’t you think that I know that soon I’ll be leading my crew directly into danger, a danger they never signed up for. A danger they’re barely trained for. Starfleet has never been about war, and I’m about to lead them into it. Every death in my crew is on my conscience, so don’t talk about your death because that’s not something I can handle on top of everything else.”

Shran sighed and his face grew soft. His defensive posture melted away. “I’m sorry, Archer,” he said. After a moment of hesitation he opened his arms and Jon fell into them. 

“I’m scared,” admitted Jon, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good,” said Shran. “That’s what makes you a good leader, that’s what saves lives. Every leader should be scared of war. Anybody who says they aren’t is either lying or a fool.”

Jon absorbed Shran’s heat for a minute before pulling away. “Are Andorians big huggers?”

“Of course not, pinkskin.” Shran rolled his eyes. “It’s something I’ve seen humans friends doing, was it inappropriate?”

“Not really,” replied Jon, sliding out of his harness. “Some people might see it as intimate.”

Something flashed in Shran’s eyes, an expression that appeared and was gone too quickly for Jon to recognize. “I’m your friend, Archer,” he said, but his voice was softer than normal. “I’ll provide comfort if I’m able.”

Jon wasn’t sure how to respond to that, instead he changed course. “When we first met I never imagined you would be giving me hugs,” he joked.

It didn’t lighten Shran’s mood. “When we first met I tortured you.”

Jon sighed. “I was provoking you into it,” he said. “More or less.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Shran frowned.

“I guess not.” Jon picked up his pack and stared out over the valley. “Come on, we don’t want to miss the firefall.”

He led Shran along the rocky trail, they were still about a kilometer above the floor of the valley. If they walked five meters away from the cliff-face they just climbed, they find themselves plummeting off another cliff. Probably to a rocky death. Jon moved the topic of conversation along to a lighter topic- Andorian politics, and let himself relax listening to Shran talk and complain. Occasionally he nodded or asked a question, but mostly he just let Shran’s voice watch over him. It was good information for Jon to know anyways. The hike to the look-out was probably another thirty minutes. By the time they reached their destination, Shran was still complaining.

Jon interrupted him. “We’re here,” he said, pointing to Horsetail Falls across the valley at El Capitan. Jon wasn’t afraid to admit he was excited, his dad had taken him to Yosemite more than once, but never in time for the firefall. 

Shran leaned in and squinted. “That doesn’t look much like fire, pinkskin,” he said, dubiously. “It’s nice to look at, but it looks like many other waterfalls I’ve seen in my lifetime.”

“You’ll see,” said Jon, not letting Shran put a damper on his spirit. “The conditions are excellent, not a cloud in the sky, and it looks like El Capitan got plenty of snowfall this winter.”

“That’s hardly any snow,” scoffed Shran. Jon just shot him a look.

He looked up at the sun, squinting a little. “It’s almost time, I think,” said Jon. “If you put your harness back on we can sit on the edge.”

Shran muttered something about taking no risks, but obediently wiggled back in. They sat down, with their legs hanging over the cliff. They waited in silence, listening to the breeze rustle the trees in the valley, watching the sun inch down the sky. 

“Look!” announced Jon. “It’s starting.”

The setting sun’s rays were illuminating Horsetail Fall as the water poured off of El Capitan. Each drop glowed a fiery orange and red as it tumbled over the rocks into the valley. The thin mist surrounding the falls caught fire too, casting the valley in a orange hue. The sunshine and water combined to make the falls appear as a lava flow coming off the mountain.

“I bet you’ve never seen a waterfall like  _ that _ before,” said Jon, a little smug. He looked over at Shran, his face was alight in childish wonder that Jon had never seen before.

“No, I haven’t,” said Shran. His eyes reflected a flickering orange as he watched in awe, enraptured. “This might be something unique to your planet.”

“Probably not,” said Jon realistically. “But it’s beautiful anyway.”

_ So are you _ . Jon thought, and in the light of the firefall he let himself entertain the thought. They were sitting close enough to each other that Jon could feel Shran’s heat, he shifted an inch to the right so their thighs were pressed together. Shran didn’t seem to mind, he just rested one blue hand on Jon’s thigh without taking his eyes off the firefall. It seemed almost too intimate. The warmth of Shran’s hand in his leg, Shran’s thigh pressed against his own, the light reflecting in his eyes and the peaceful quiet around and between them. Jon took a breath and placed his own hand on top of Shran’s. Shran turned his gaze away from the firefall to look at Jon, just for a moment. His face was tender and his posture was relaxed.

“Thank you for bringing me out here,” murmured Shran, looking back over the valley.

“Anytime,” replied Jon. What he meant was  _ I could spend the rest of my life here _ and  _ I’ll show you every sight Earth has to offer  _ and  _ Tell me we’ll do this again _ . Jon could fight the Romulans, he  _ would _ fight the Romulans. He had to protect this for himself and the  _ this _ that happened for humans everywhere. The Romulans could wrench this happiness out of his lifeless hands, but Jon wouldn’t make it easy for them.

~~~

Eventually the sun slid down the sky enough for the Horsetail Fall to return to a crashing white and for the valley to clear. Jon and Shran didn’t move for another good while, crowded against each other. Hand in hand. Jon wasn’t sure who ended up moving first, but he found himself starting a fire while Shran laid out the sleeping rolls on either side of the makeshift fire pit. The forecast was clear for the night so they didn’t bother with the tent. When the fire was finally steadily burning and the stars were starting to blink into sight, Jon brought out the hotdogs from his pack.

“Classic human dish,” he said. “We roast them over the fire.”

Shran took the offered collapsible roasting stick and copied Jon as he impaled the hot dog and held it into the fire. “How do you know when it’s done?”

“You buy them precooked,” explained Jon, causing Shran to wrinkle his nose. “You roast them to heat them up.”

Shran seemed very distrustful of the concept and seemed even more dubious as Jon brought out the buns and squeezed ketchup and mustard onto it. He tried some of the condiment on his fingers and carefully laid out a thin strip of each on his own bun.

“This is mediocre,” declared Shran after a few bites. “If I’m being generous.”

Jon hid a smile quickly before flattening his mouth. “That’s blasphemy around here,” he said. 

Shran didn’t blink. “Then I’ll be blasphemous,” he said dryly. “Lucky for me, I haven’t adopted your culture.”

Jon rolled his eyes and started roasting his second hot dog, offering another one to Shran. Shran eyed it before huffing and grabbing it.

“I hope we won’t be eating these for breakfast,” he grumbled. 

“You’ll just have to find out,” said Jon pleasantly and turned to dig through his pack. He found what he was looking for and brandished a deck of cards in front of his face. As expected, Shran had no idea what cards were. Jon introduced him to Go Fish, a simple enough game that quickly got Shran used to the progressions of the cards, as well as the suits. They moved onto Golf pretty quickly. Jon was very pleased to see Shran enjoying himself playing card games. He really would make a fine addition to the crew.

They played repeat games of Golf until Jon was yawning through his words. Shran stoked the fire a little more to keep it burning and Jon crawled into his sleeping bag, even as he did he didn’t sleep.

“I think that’s you,” he said to Shran, who followed his gaze and looked up. “Your system is the little dog star. In Canis Minor.”

“The little dog star?” asked Shran, slipping into his own bedroll.

“Mmmm,” said Jon. “You’re in the dog constellation, the eighth brightest star in our sky.”

“Sol is one of the brightest stars in our sky too,” said Shran. 

“We’re practically next door neighbours,” said Jon. As strange as it seemed, Andoria was one of the closest inhabited planets to Earth. “There, can you see the dog constellation?”

He traced the outline with his finger. He heard Shran’s murmured agreement. “And there’s Orion, a mythical figure from ancient Earth civilization. He uses a bow and arrow.”

He listed constellations, on and on, memorized and familiar. Giving each constellation a backstory, how these constellations guided sailors across the sea in colonial times. He talked about the Milky Way and the story of Zeus and Hera and baby Heracles and all the things that didn’t really matter. He talked anyway and Shran listened, listened through the crackle of the fire and the hum of the crickets. The space between Shran and Jon felt gaping wide, so Jon filled it with his words that could never mean anything to somebody who grew up light years away on another planet. When he tore his gaze away from the stars for just a moment, he saw Shran across the fire with his eyes wide open, fixed on the sky, never interrupting, never questioning, just listening,  _ indulging _ him. Jon dared to think Shran appreciated his stories and his voice. Shran never complained so Jon didn’t stop talking, he didn’t stop until he heard Shran’s breath even out and he looked over to see Shran’s eyes closed and his mouth half open. Jon smiled to himself, taking a moment to register the sight of the aggressive Andorian asleep and quiet. Before his own eyes drifted shut and his mind turned to fog, Jon thought maybe Shran’s silence was a declaration of some kind all by itself.

~~~

_ Enterprise _ drifted through the stars Jon had spent so long explaining. She sailed along the Romulan border at warp 3 on patrol. Jon, staring blankly at the computer monitor in his ready room, grimly considered the implications of his orders to patrol the border. It meant only one thing, Starfleet Command was expecting an attack. And they wanted Jon and his crew to be the ones that responded. It chilled Jon to the bone more than he liked to admit. The patrol had been ongoing for two weeks without a blip on sensors. The crew was quiet and Jon had Trip continue movie nights in an attempt to maintain morale.

“Archer,” said Shran. “Cut the deck.”

Jon looked away from the monitor, Shran was staring expectantly at him, his blue hands awkwardly handling four cards. Jon was teaching him how to play cribbage. Jon had taught him many card games over the past weeks, it had become a habit. Shran was teaching him some Andorian games in return, but they didn’t have access to the game pieces needed. It had been a comfort to spend the time with Shran, whose presence on board was always calm and confident, even in the face of war.

Jon reached forward to cut the deck, retrieving an eight of spades. Not that it did anything to help his hand. He was beating Shran, but only by a small margin.

“Eight,” said Shran.

“Twelve.”

“Fifteen, for two,” said Shran. Jon glared at him.

“Eighteen, for two,” said Jon, laying down a three in retaliation. Shran narrowed his eyes. 

“Twenty-eight,” said Shran.

“Yours.”

“Thirty-one, for two.”

“Five, fifteen, for three,” said Jon, gaining a one-point on Shran. He counted his cards methodically, adding up a measly five points. Shran counted four in his hand, and six in the crib, making Jon groan as Shran took the lead.

Jon collected the cards to shuffle them again, letting his hands follow the familiar movements as his mind drifted away from the game again. The Xindi crisis had been a race for survival, it was never a war. This would be a war, there was no saying how long it would last, or how bloody it would be. With a small sigh he dealt the hand.

“Human games are very tame,” said Shran as he carefully considered his hand. “Andorian games tend to be more aggressive.”

“We tend to reserve our aggression for sports,” replied Jon, absentmindedly discarding two threes into the crib. “You watched a game of waterpolo with me.”

“They did appear to be trying to drown each other,” conceded Shran, his voice approving. “I think-”

“Captain to the bridge,” Malcolm’s voice over the comm interrupted Shran as he spoke. The comm was quickly followed by the beginning of tactical alert. Jon dropped his cards and stood up, Shran fell into step with him as they entered the bridge.

“Report,” said Jon, sitting down as T’Pol vacated the captain’s chair.

The crew didn’t respond for a few seconds as Jon got a look at the viewscreen. The wreckage of a ship. A human ship. “Report!” he repeated.

“I believe it’s the  _ ECS Morningstar _ ,” said T’Pol. “A freighter, it was last heard from yesterday, captain. There was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What happened?” asked Jon, his fingers tight on the armrests. 

“Romulans,” said Malcolm. “Their energy signature is all over the place. Actually…” His voice drifted off and he looked up at Jon, his face pale.

“What is it, Malcolm?” asked Jon.

“A massive subspace distortion,” cut in T’Pol. “Massive amounts of Romulan energy signatures.”

“What are you saying?” demanded Jon.

“They’re saying we’re facing a fleet of cloaked ships,” said Shran, his voice quiet and firm at Jon’s shoulder.

Jon filled in the gaps. An invasion force. The Romulan fleet. Jon’s heart raced, his hands shook. All the spats, the building tension, the rumours of a growing fleet there, whispers of weapons development here, it was all coming to a head here and now. The threat of war was much different than the realization that a war was about to start right now. Jon wished he hadn’t just learned that.

“They’re decloaking,” said Hoshi. Jon looked up. It started with one ship, then another, then another. 

“Polarize the hull plating!” said Jon, as though they had some chance of fighting this off. “Maximum warp, get us out of here!”

Travis turned to Jon. “Sir, they’ve surrounded us, completely, we can’t warp out.”

Jon felt his stomach drop, the universe narrowed down to this place, this moment. He looked around at the bridge crew. They all looked at him. Then Malcolm spoke.

“ _ If I should die, _  
_ Think only this of me: _  
_ That there’s some corner of a foreign field _  
_ That is forever England. There shall be _  
_ In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; _  
_ A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware _  
_ Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam; _  
_ Gave a body of England’s, breathing English air, _  
_ Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.” _

The crew was silent as they listened, Jon couldn’t find the words to respond, to encourage them. He took a moment to center himself. He had handled other crises, he had faced the Xindi and the Klingons. He had gotten out of impossible situations before and most importantly, he was the captain of Starfleet’s first warp-five ship, Starfleet’s flagship. He took a deep breath and turned to Hoshi, his voice steady and his posture confident. 

“Hail them,” he ordered.

“No response.” Hoshi’s voice was high and thin. 

“They’re arming weapons,” reported Malcolm.

_ Enterprise _ shook slightly, a couple sparks flew. Malcolm looked up at Jon again. 

“Sir, they’ve surrounded us and they have us at close range,” he said. “But that shot just glanced off the portside. No damage.”

“A warning shot,” murmured Jon. “But why not let us go if they don’t want to destroy us?”

“You’re about to get your answer,” said Hoshi. “They’re hailing, audio only.”

“Put it through,” said Jon.

“Take a message back to your people,” said a heavily accented voice. “The Romulan Star Empire has destroyed one of your vessels, and we will destroy many more. The Romulan Star Empire is at war with Earth.”

The audio cut out before Jon could respond. For a long moment, nobody spoke and nobody moved. T’Pol’s face was blank, but Jon could read tension in her shoulders. Hoshi and Travis both stared back and Jon. Malcolm only stared blankly at the viewscreen. The confidence Jon had found just a moment prior evaporated. He could feel a pit opening in his chest. A war sized pit, and he felt like he was falling, falling. War was here, they were at war. A firm hand fell onto his shoulder and squeezed.  _ Shran. _ Jon latched onto the feeling and straightened, his vision clearing.

“Can we get out?” he asked. 

Travis turned back to his station. “Yes, sir, they’ve cleared a path.”

“Mayweather, set a course for Earth.” Jon took a deep breath. “Hoshi, get me Starfleet Command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- On the topic of Archer and Shran’s conversation in San Francisco, I really legitimately think that the prospect of going to war barely a 100 years after a nuclear winter would be very very unnerving for humanity. They nearly destroyed themselves and while this may be different, they have come so far from that, they probably learned about how bad war was for humanity since they were in school. The prospect of war is always scary, but after a war that nearly destroyed the human race, I think they would be hesitant.
> 
> \- I’ve never been to Yosemite, but the [firefall from El Capitan](https://www.latimes.com/travel/story/2020-01-15/yosemites-natural-firefall-only-appears-in-february) is a real phenomenon that takes place in February and it does require specific conditions to occur such as a clear sky, enough snowfall and a warm enough day. I made up the spot they watched it from.
> 
> -The conversation Jon and Shran have about hot dogs is practically verbatim from the argument my parents have about hot dogs every time we eat them- Jon is my dad and Shran is my mum.
> 
> \- According to [Memory Alpha](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Procyon), Andoria is in what we now know as the Procyon system, sometimes known as “the little dog star”, making it one of the closest inhabited systems to Earth, even closer than Vulcan. Both Procyon and Orion are visible in the northern hemisphere during winter months.
> 
> \- I love card and board games, I think the crew of Enterprise would enjoy them too, considering it’s a small ship with no holodeck. You’ll have to get used to watching them playing games in their spare time. [Here](https://twitter.com/StorySlug/status/1237018009547530245) is a twitter thread about Star Trek and board games. [ Here](https://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-Play-Cribbage/) is a tutorial for how to play Cribbage.
> 
> \- The poem Malcolm recited is part of [The Soldier](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/13076/the-soldier) by Rupert Brooke, a world war one poem, that I thought was fitting for Malcolm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth and _Enterprise_ is thrown full force into the war, they scramble for allies.

“Captain, we’re approaching the Earth fleet,” said Travis.

“Onscreen.” Jon looked up from his padd.

It was a small clump of ships, maybe five dozen. Jon knew not enough of those ships were warp-five capable. Compared to what they had seen in the Romulan fleet, Earth’s fleet was tiny. Insubstantial. Jon didn’t voice his concern.

He didn’t need to. The crew’s faces showed they had the military imbalance figured it out all by themselves. 

“Turn us around,” ordered Jon. “Put us at the front of the fleet.”

Travis complied, and the fleet parted to leave space for  _ Enterprise _ to join them. The bridge was silent except for the whirs of machinery and equipment. Jon itched to crack a joke, lighten the mood, but nothing came to mind.

“Any news from Vulcan?” Jon asked finally.

“No, sir,” said Hoshi. 

“It would be unexpected for Vulcan to fight alongside us,” said T’Pol. “T’Pau is a pacifist, under her the council will never agree to join a war.”

Jon was expecting that. He remembered what Surak had been saying in his head, it hadn’t been war. It was discouraging to hear it out loud. He had a call with Ambassador Socal scheduled for later that day, he would try to talk to him then. See exactly what kind of support they will and won’t offer. T’Pau owed him for what happened with the Kir’Shara, if nothing else she would have to hear him out.

“Andoria?”

Hoshi shook her head, Jon turned to Shran.

“The Imperial Guard will spend several days in meetings.” Shran shrugged slightly. “They will come to the conclusion to join the war. Andoria doesn’t like being meddled with. The Romulans tried to manipulate us and Andoria won’t let that slide. And unlike some species-” He shot a glare at T’Pol. “-Andorians honour the treaties they sign and the alliances they join.”

T’Pol didn’t dignify the jab with a response. “I would not speculate about the decision of the Tellarites,” she said before Jon could ask. 

“Shran?”

“I wish I could say, pinkskin,” said Shran. “They’re proud, but cautious. It’s hard to say.”

Jon sighed. “Hoshi, get me Admiral Gardner.”

~~~

He left T’Pol in command on the bridge and he tumbled into his chair behind his desk. He swiped a hand across his browline and turned on his monitor. Admiral Gardner blinked onto the screen and looked equally as tired as Jon felt.

“Good morning, Captain.”

“That’s debatable,” said Jon. “What are my orders?”

“We don’t know much about the Romulans,” said Gardner. “We can’t attack an enemy we don’t know.”

“We couldn’t win in an outright battle anyways.” Jon had come to this conclusion rather quickly after seeing the Romulan fleet. “You’re saying we should wait for a Romulan attack?”

“I don’t like the idea anymore than you do.” Gardner sighed. “You said it yourself, we can’t win an outright fight. We have no idea what they’re going to do. What are we supposed to do?”

“Find allies,” suggested Jon. “Open negotiations with Draylax and Denobula.”

“We have nothing to offer them, Jon. What would they get from this war except the loss of their own ships? The Romulans aren’t their enemy.”

“Tell them that the Romulans are attacking us for a reason that could mean expansion to their planets!” Jon stood from his chair and turned away from the screen.

“Even if we got them on board that gives us what? Another seven warp-five ships? Draylax and Denobula aren’t known for their militaries,” Gardner’s voice was calmer than it should be. “Jon, the best we can do is wait. See what Andoria decides, see what Tellar decides, try to get an idea of what the Romulans are planning.”

“You’re saying we have no options.”

“I’m saying we are choosing the  _ only _ option.”

“There have to be other planets who will fight with us.” Jon didn’t dare think about the outcome of the war if Earth stood alone. Were the Romulans benevolent overlords?

“We have ambassadors talking to other planets,” said Gardner. “But we’re not optimistic. We hold some sway economically and I think Draylax knows they wouldn’t get the trade they need from the Romulans.”

“But it’s not enough.”

“It’s not enough,” agreed Gardner. “I want  _ Enterprise _ to come home. Patrol the Sol system until we know more.”

“What about the rest of the fleet?”

“They’re going to Alpha Centauri. The colony there is defenseless. I want to maintain a low profile until we have something against the Romulans.”

“How do we know the Romulans won’t attack us outright, if they have the firepower?” 

“We don’t.” Gardner’s fingers thrummed anxiously against the desk. “If we separate, we can keep them guessing at our numbers. Anybody sane would be less likely to make a move if they don’t know what kind of retaliation they’ll face.”

“Unless they do know our numbers,” murmured Jon. “What if we can make our numbers seem bigger than they are?”

“What are you thinking, Captain?”

Jon’s mind raced, trying to calculate the numbers of Romulan ships and Earth ships. The Romulans seemed like the type to have their information in order, enough to have a general idea of the size of Earth’s fleet. They would have destroyed  _ Enterprise _ back when they were all alone if they thought Earth might outnumber them.

“It would be a gamble,” he said eventually.

Gardner just gestured for him to go on. 

“Before T’Pau took power on Vulcan, they used false warp signatures to lure the Andorian fleet out of the way.” Gardner nodded like he remembered. “We leave Earth undefended except for a few ships.” Gardner sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything. “Instead we generate enough warp signatures that the Romulans wouldn’t think about attacking right away. We can generate a few dozen somewhere else, enough to trick the Romulans to go that direction. Most of the fleet goes to Alpha Centauri, masks their signatures in Alpha Centauri’s asteroid belt, there are mining operations working on extracting dozens of different radioactive materials. Alpha Centauri is strategically advantageous, if it appeared undefended, I know that I would try to take it right away. I’m willing to bet the Romulans would, too. Hopefully, the Romulans send a small enough number of ships we can beat them but a large enough number of ships we can knock out a large portion of their fleet.”

“That could backfire.” Gardner looked thoughtful. “But it could also work. I’ll take it to Command, but we’re putting billions of lives on the line.”

“I know, Admiral,” said Jon. “But we’re outnumbered, badly. We need to even the score.”

“For now, hold your position.” Gardner looked indecisive. “You’ll have your orders by tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

The feed cut out and Jon stood. The idea was risky, there was no denying that. If it went sideways, everything would go to shit. He left his ready-room.

“Full stop,” he ordered. “We’re holding position here. Hoshi, send out a broad-band message. Tell the fleet new orders are to remain here. They should be hearing from Command themselves soon.”

As soon as his orders were carried out, Jon gestured to Shran and Malcolm. They joined him as he returned to his ready-room. He explained his proposal to them, hoping to get a positive review from both of them.

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably. “It would be a good idea if it worked, sir,” he said. “We’re risking Earth itself.”

“I know that, Malcolm. Do you think it will work?”

“I honestly can’t say, sir,” Malcolm replied. “A 50/50 chance.”

Jon sighed, spreading his hands in desperation. “Shran?”

“It’s a good plan, Archer,” said Shran. “Bold. From what we know of the Romulans, they won’t hesitate to use tricks and deception to win their battles. This isn’t a war that can be won outright.”

“He has a point, sir,” Malcolm interjected. “We have to fight like they figh,t or we’ll be losing before we even start.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jon had in mind when he came up with the idea but he could see where they were coming from. The Romulans  _ had _ proved themselves to be deceptive and conniving. Jon’s idea might even earn their respect. Or their anger. 

“Alright,” he said finally. “Then we’re just waiting on the order.”

~~~

The orders came only a few hours later, to be carried out over the span of four days.  _ Enterprise _ had been ordered to lead the majority of the fleet to Alpha Centauri and to evacuate the colony as a precaution. Two of the other warp-5 capable ships,  _ Endeavor  _ and  _ Columbia _ , had been ordered off to set the lures. They were supposed to meet them back in Alpha Centauri but the timeline would be tight so any delay would force them to abort and only come in once the battle began. About a fifth of the fleet had returned to Earth in case the plan went south. 

_ Although _ , Jon thought grimly,  _ if the plan goes south, those ships won’t be able to do much of anything. _

He hadn’t even realized he’d been giving off an aura of tension and apprehension until T’Pol finally asked to talk to him in his ready-room and Shran had wordlessly followed. Jon figured it must be pretty obvious and pretty important if the Vulcan and the Andorian were agreeing on something. 

T’Pol turned to him. “Captain, you’re making the entire crew anxious,” she said bluntly. “It is a captain’s responsibility to be calm in the face of danger.”

Jon sighed in frustration. “It’s hard not to be anxious when I’m taking the crew into certain danger.”

Shran glanced at T’Pol and when she didn’t say anything, he spoke. “Your crew will respond better if they know their captain is confident and relaxed.”

“I know that,” said Jon. “But it’s hard to project that when I’m not feeling that.”

In all honesty, Jon was annoyed that his friend and his first officer had to point it out to him. He  _ should _ have better control, they shouldn’t have to tell him. It wasn’t this way when he had to fight the Xindi and Jon wasn’t sure why he was reacting so differently to this threat than to that one. It irritated him and made him more frustrated which just put him in a loop of negative emotions.

“I don’t understand why the Xindi incident didn’t affect me this much.”

“I do,” declared Shran.

When both T’Pol and Jon turned to look at him in surprise, Shran just stared back. “Andorians understand anger,” he said, as if it were the most logical thing in the galaxy. “When you had to face the Xindi, you were angry and so was the rest of the crew. But now you’re not angry anymore. You’re just scared.”

T’Pol pursed her lips. “What he’s saying has merit, captain. Anger feeds confidence. Fear doesn’t.”

Jon briefly wondered when the relationship between him, Shran, and T’Pol had evolved to include psychoanalysis, and came to the conclusion that T’Pol had been psychoanalyzing him since they met. He had to admit they were probably right.

“So what do I do about it?” he asked, since apparently they were having this conversation about his feelings. 

“I’ve been working with Ensign Sato to help her control her emotions through Vulcan meditation techniques,” said T’Pol. “I believe you would benefit from similar treatment.”

Jon was sure that his relationship with T’Pol was vastly different than her relationship with Hoshi, but he elected to ignore that thought for the moment. 

“I might just take you up on that,” said Jon, ignoring Shran’s eye-rolling in the background. A few years ago he might have had a similar reaction, but he had learned to value T’Pol’s control and order. 

“Any Andorian would just be angry instead,” suggested Shran. 

Jon blinked. “Sounds… nice,” he offered.

Shran huffed again and disregarded proper starship formalities in order to leave the ready-room without acknowledging either of them. 

“It is not in a human’s nature to exact precise control over their emotions,” said T’Pol. “But it can be done.”

Jon noticed something. “You said you use meditation to control emotion, does that mean you’re saying that Vulcans  _ have  _ emotion?”

T’Pol regarded him with an even stare that almost made him reconsider the question. “Vulcans have emotions,” she admitted. “We do not feel them the same way humans do, we try to suppress them, remove them.”

Jon digested the information carefully then asked another question. Hesitantly. “How are you feeling about the war?”

T’Pol turned away from him and she was silent for a long, drawn-out moment. “I am apprehensive,” she finally said. “Although I don’t think most Vulcans would ever feel quite as much of it as I do.”

“Because you’re surrounded by emotional humans?”

There was another silence, this one shorter. “My time on  _ Enterprise _ is almost certainly the cause.”

Jon resisted the urge to frown, there was something strangely elusive about that answer. Her time on  _ Enterprise _ but not being surrounded by humans. His mind flashed back to T’Pol’s behaviour in the Delphic Expanse that wasn’t  _ emotional _ or even  _ strange _ , just  _ off _ . He recalled how after the Xindi incident, she had spent most of her time with Phlox for several weeks. Sometimes he cursed doctor-patient confidentiality. He knew there was something he didn’t know. Now wasn’t the time to poke into his first-officer’s personal life, how ever much he wanted to. He let the subject drop.

They returned to the bridge, just in time for the fleet to begin dropping out of warp. Jon ordered Travis into a standard orbit around the colony. Jon, Hoshi, and Trip were preparing to take a shuttle down to the surface to begin the evacuation.

“Won’t evacuating the colony alert the Romulans to our plan?” asked Hoshi, as she ducked into the shuttle.

“Not necessarily,” said Trip. “The entire population of the colony can fit on two freighters. Two freighters leaving a colony isn’t so suspicious.”

“Alpha Centauri relies on imports for technology and to some extent food, but they also export raw material,” added Jon. “Two freighters showing up from Earth’s general direction, stopping in orbit around a human colony for a few days before leaving? Sounds like a normal cargo run to me.” 

“I don’t mean to question Starfleet’s orders, but Alpha Centauri is only four light years from Earth,” said Hoshi. “Even if the Alpha Centauri Colony is safe, who’s to say Earth is? If something goes wrong here, the Romulans could be there in hours.”

“If something goes wrong here, it won’t matter how far away Earth is.” Trip’s bluntness didn’t appear to comfort Hoshi at all. She frowned but closed the hatch. 

“Hoshi, the future of Earth is riding on what happens here,” said Jon. “It won’t go wrong, because it can’t go wrong.”

~~~

Things went wrong very quickly. For one, the Romulans got to Alpha Centauri early. If the Romulans wanted, they could have caught up with the evacuation freighters within an hour. It was a small mercy that they had decided to stick around to decimate Earth’s fleet instead. The other thing that went very wrong, was that the Romulans had not taken the false-warp signature bait. Or at least, not enough of them had. Earth’s fleet was outnumbered three to one. The ships that had been sent to lay the false warp signatures were still hours away, at least. 

Right now, Earth had one thing going for it. Starfleet’s ships were more maneuverable in the asteroid belt. They had resorted to using it to their advantage, forcing the Romulans to either blow each asteroid apart, or enter the belt. The Romulans had decided on a fun mixture of both. Jon spared a thought for the economy as asteroids full of valuable materials were blown apart. 

The thought was very quickly replaced as the asteroid they were currently hiding behind was blasted apart and  _ Enterprise’s _ polarized hull didn’t quite manage to deflect all the debris. Travis was quick to get out of the Romulans’ ship’s firing line and duck behind another asteroid. The game of cat and mouse was a temporary solution.

Jon slammed his arm rest. “Bridge to Engineering, damage report!”

“We’re doing alright,” said Trip. “In practical terms we just wrecked our paint jobs.”

“We’ll try to keep it that way.” Jon turned off the comm and turned to Malcolm. “What do weapons look like?”

“Everything is online, sir.” Malcolm’s fingers paused from moving rapidly over his controls and looked up. “Targeting will be difficult. Between interference from the asteroid mines and having to account for the asteroids themselves, I`m not sure if-”

“I can,” Shran interrupted. “Even with your sensors, I can compensate.”

“By all means.” Jon gestured at the tactical station.

Malcolm shuffled over to make room for Shran, and the two began to mutter together. Jon couldn’t make out what they were saying, but decided they knew better than him what they were doing. 

“We’ve lost contact with the  _ Republic _ ,” said Hoshi, fumbling to reestablish communication.

Malcolm swore. “The Romulans are trying to flank us, sir.”

“They’re succeeding,” said Shran. “If they penetrate the line there, the entire fleet will be at risk.

“Get us over there, Travis,” ordered Jon.

“Aye, sir.”

As soon as they left the cover of the asteroid, they were hit from their port and dorsal sides. Sparks flew and Jon heard Malcolm curse as the impact made him smash his knee against a support column.

“Alright?”

“You only need one leg to stand, sir,” said Malcolm through a groan. 

Jon was pretty sure that wasn’t true but they weren’t in a position to argue. He ordered return fire and evasive maneuvers. They were forced to leave the asteroid belt to get to the  _ Republic _ ’s coordinates but Jon had known it wouldn’t last forever. The  _ Republic _ was in one piece, but barely. 

“The core is going critical!”

Jon’s eyes widened. “Full reverse!” He thought he saw a dozen, maybe two dozen escape pods eject from the  _ Republic _ . They had barely gotten to a safe distance when the ship exploded. The Romulans had targeted the core on purpose. 

“Fuck them,” Jon muttered. “Target that cruiser’s weapons array. And their starboard nacelles for good measure.”

“Aye, sir,” said Malcolm. 

The  _ Republic _ had managed to take out the cruiser’s shields before they had been destroyed. A few shots from  _ Enterprise _ was enough for the Romulan cruiser to stop fighting. 

“She’s dead in the water, sir,” said Malcolm.

“Good. Target the ship heading 50 mark 40.” 

Jon lost track of time as the fight raged. He didn’t know how long they had been at it, but he knew they were losing. At least four Earth ships had been destroyed already, and more disabled. They were relying on the NX class ships and the Yorktown class ships to hold it together.  _ Enterprise  _ was ruthlessly battered by Romulan ships and Jon wasn’t sure how much more they would be able to handle. 

All he was focused on was trying to make it out of the battle alive. Warp engines were disabled so they weren’t going anywhere the Romulans didn’t want them to go. The  _ Missouri  _ had warped away awhile ago, leaving them one warp five ship short. Presumably, they had considered the battle lost and were retreating. If Jon made it out alive, he would deck Captain Faddox the next time they met for leaving the Earth fleet stranded. 

“Engineering to bridge.” Trip’s voice crackled as it came though.

“Archer here.”

“We’re losing hull polarity,” said Trip. “We have too many hull breaches to support it.”

Jon cursed. “Any suggestions?”

“Blast the Romulans to hell.”

“We’re trying.”

“Well try harder.” Trip’s voice cut out. 

“How are we looking, Shran?” Jon asked. Malcolm’s leg had given out and he had passed out, leaving Shran alone at tactical. 

“Not good, Archer,” said Shran, his fingers flying over the controls. “Phase cannons are offline and we’re running low on photonic torpedoes.”

_ Shit _ . They were rapidly running out of options, no defenses, no escape and no weapons. The Romulans didn’t seem like the type to take prisoners, but Jon figured they had a better chance with escape pods than staying on  _ Enterprise _ as it blew up.

Jon made eye contact with Shran briefly. Then he hit his armrest. “Captain Archer to all hands, abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship.” 

The bridge crew nodded slowly. They would be the last to leave, senior staff waited until every living person was off before they left. It was protocol, and it was a matter of duty. After a few minutes, Jon gestured for the bridge crew to head to the turbolift to take them to the escape pods. Hoshi’s arm was hanging at an odd angle, and her hair looked wet with blood; she had to be supported by Travis on her way. Shran had picked up Malcolm and slung the unconscious tactical officer over his shoulders and was limping on his way. 

“Wait.” T’Pol was leaning over sensors, which had miraculously, survived the attack.

“What is it, Commander?” asked Jon.

“There’s a fleet of ships entering the system,” she said.

“Romulan?”

“No,” she said and glanced at Shran. “Andorian.”

As if on cue, the ship that had been firing on  _ Enterprise _ turned away from them and started moving in the opposite direction. Jon held his breath, watching as the Andorian fleet entered visual range and began firing on the Romulan ships. The Romulans fought back for only a few minutes before they realized they wouldn’t win against the remaining Earth fleet and the Andorians. They turned and warped away, leaving a wake of destruction behind them. The bridge crew, halfway to the turbolift, watched in stunned silence until Shran finally spoke.

“See, I told you the Andorians would join Earth.”

Jon gave him an exhausted, half-smile. “Take Malcolm to the infirmary,” he ordered. “Travis, take Hoshi there too.”

Jon sat in the pilot’s seat instead of the captain’s chair and began fumbling at the controls. “T’Pol,” he glanced at the Vulcan. “Help me gather the escape pods.”

~~~

Half the Earth fleet was stuck at Alpha Centauri for a week just for all of them to get warp operational. At first the Andorians offered to stick around to help them find their footing again, but it soon became clear that the Romulans would take ruthless advantage of Earth’s fleet being inoperational. The Andorians left to discourage any major attacks while the fleet recovered,

Needless to say, the battle at Alpha Centauri was a military disaster. Starfleet Command didn’t outright blame Jon, but they weren’t buddying up to him either. They agreed that the plan had potential and they were the ones who had ordered the go ahead. On Earth, Jon was pretty sure it was being touted as a victory. He had heard Admiral Saadiq’s speech about it. The speech was strangely reminiscent of Churchill’s speech after Dunkirk- another military disaster that was portrayed as a victory for the allies. While Jon wasn’t a fan of any sort of propaganda, he recognized that telling every human citizen that the first battle of the war had been a failure would do more harm than good.

Jon was desperately trying to get some shut-eye before  _ Enterprise _ left for Tellar, who they were still trying to convince to join the war. Porthos, who had made it through another battle unscathed, was curled up beside him. Jon didn’t normally let him sleep on the bed, but Jon had decided that tonight he could use the comfort.

His door buzzed. He would be more upset about it if he thought he was going to get any sleep at all. 

“Enter,” he said and Shran stepped through the door.

He was a sight for sore eyes. Jon had barely seen him over the past week, Shran had been in almost constant meetings with Andorian generals and commanders and in his time off from that he was in the armoury with a still recovering Malcolm.

“Shran,” he greeted, with a tired smile.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” said Shran, awkwardly sitting in the only chair in Archer’s quarters.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Jon sat up, causing Porthos to wake. The beagle saw Shran and immediately scrambled off the bed towards him. Jon wasn’t sure what made Prothos love Shran so much but Jon suspected it was the attention. Shran gracefully welcomed Porthos onto his lap and began absentmindedly stroking his fur.

“I just came to see-” Shran paused, looking embarrassed, “-to see how you were doing.”

Jon sighed, he grabbed one of his pillows and hugged it to his stomach. “Not great.” He said honestly. “My plan got over a hundred people killed.”

Shran scritched under Porthos’ ear. “You can’t blame yourself for that,” he said. “Your Command approved it, and the Romulans were the ones who killed them.”

“But it was  _ my  _ plan.”

“Archer, I don’t want to have this argument again, but  _ this is war _ .” Shran picked up Porthos so he could move to sit on the bed. “You’re a commander, this is war, people will die under your command and you have to accept that.”

Jon didn’t reply for awhile. “I signed up to be a captain so that I could explore the galaxy, not lead a war.”

Shran seemed to consider that. “So what will you do? Resign because you can’t handle the pressure?”

Jon glared at him. “Of course not, I just-” he sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to go to war.”

“Neither do I,” said Shran. “I wanted to avoid war so much that once I brought in this random person I had only met twice from a race of people just starting to get into the interstellar stage to come and negotiate between me and a potential enemy.”

“Hey,” said Jon halfheartedly.

“I know the Vulcans say we’re warmongers but that’s not really true,” said Shran. “We’re not afraid of war and we won’t hesitate to protect what’s ours, but we don’t want war for the most part. It’s actually something we look for in new recruits, somebody who is more prone to defensiveness and peace than going on the offensive.”

Jon looked at him in surprise. “Really?” he asked.

Shran rolled his eyes. “Yes, pinkskin,” he said. “Sometimes guardsmen like that slip into the ranks- you met Tarah on Weytahn- but mostly we want to keep the peace, we don’t like getting ourselves killed.

Of course we aren’t like you, we fight to the death sometimes and I’ve tortured people for information, and we’re aggressive and paranoid, like you’ve said before. But we do that to avoid war, not start it. Just think about any encounter you’ve had with me, does it seem like I want to go to war?”

“I guess not,” said Jon, and it was true. “How many people have died under your command?”

Shran looked resigned but not surprised. “That’s a bit of a personal question,” he said. “Too many.” He looked down and Porthos and fondled his floppy ears a little. “147.”

Jon sucked in a breath. “That many?”

“I’ve commanded a starship longer than you’ve been in space,” said Shran. “And Andoria has many enemies. I’ve lost fewer than most commanders.”

Jon hesitated again, trying to read Shran’s face. “What do you do about the people you’ve lost?”

“I contact their families, each and every one, no matter what,” said Shran. “If possible, I have a meal with them and share and drink for the lost guardsman. It doesn’t make it more bearable, but it honours them. And of course, I take their blood back to the ice.”

“But nothing to make you feel better?”

“Archer, no matter what you do, you’ll still feel those deaths.” Shran paused in his attentions to Porthos. “You still feel everybody you lost on the Xindi mission, don’t you?”

Jon did, of course he did. They weighed heavy in his stomach.

Shran sighed and stood up. “Get some sleep.” He gave Jon a small smile. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

~~~

Getting the Tellarites to join them wasn’t easy. They weren’t as militaristic as the Andorians, meaning they weren’t ready to get into an all-out war if they didn’t have sufficient cause. The meetings were stressful, to say the least. Talking to Tellarites in the best of times was stressful, and these were not the best of times. The only good thing about the Tellarite meetings was that Tellarites liked a  _ good _ argument. Meaning they didn’t interrupt or shout over each other, they hardly shouted at all.

Shran had noted that if an Andorian meeting ever went that badly there might be a weapon or two pulled. Jon had to say that in any human meeting, more than one person would have walked out. The Tellarites, however, could argue for ages. Jon was almost impressed by their tenacity.

Almost. He would have actually been impressed if they would come to a decision. Tellar had a consensus system- 85% of their council needed to agree for any action to be passed. Jon was astounded that anything got passed ever. 

“Council, who would you rather have in control of one of your closest interstellar neighbours? The Romulans, who have never shown an ounce of respect or trustworthiness? Or Earth, who has been nothing but helpful in the past?” 

Jon’s question got the council mumbling amongst themselves, Jon was running out of new arguments to make, they had heard nearly everything and they were still at a standstill. Only 73% of the council had agreed to enter the war, which means it was going in Earth’s favour. After all, 85% of the council needed to agree to stay out of the war too. Like Jon had said, he was astounded anything got done.

Shran had been kicked out of the meetings the day prior for yelling in the  _ Croress’  _ (who was the person in charge of keeping order) face when she had dismissed his argument. Jon didn’t blame him, the  _ Croress _ was supposed to remain neutral in any decision, but she obviously didn’t like the presence of aliens in her council. 

“Captain Archer.” Speak of the  _ Croress.  _ “We have heard your pathetic plea, the rest of the process remains an internal matter. Please cease cursing us with your disgusting presence.”

“I didn’t want to be here anyways,” said Jon respectfully. He turned and left the council chamber, breathing a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. Shran and T’Pol were waiting outside.

Jon explained before they could ask for any updates. “They’ve heard everything they want to hear from us, the rest is up to them.”

Shran slouched. 

“The  _ Croress _ often places a time limit on the proceedings to prevent them from going on for weeks or months,” said T’Pol. “After the limit expires, the council will shut down all economic activity on Tellar to encourage council members to make a decision, or the person who has presented the issue has to withdraw. I believe Council Member Fraasav will not withdraw her presentation meaning we are favoured should the  _ Croress _ place a time limit.”

“That’s good, at least,” said Jon. 

“I have other news,” added T’Pol as they started walking. “Commander Tucker contacted me, he spoke with Admiral Gardner.”

“And?”

“We have orders to get to Argelius as soon as we are able to leave Tellar.”

Jon sighed, the Andorians were holding a strong line just outside the Argelius system, it was inhabited but not warp capable. Not that it mattered, it was strategically important. The Romulans had been trying to break through for two days now.

“Alright, there’s nothing more we can do here,” said Jon. “Tell Travis to be ready to leave as soon as we get back.”

~~~

T’Pol pulled out her communicator and repeated his orders. Shran tried to say something to Jon, but Jon ignored him. He agreed with T’Pol, the Tellarites were more likely to join the war than to not. That might just be enough to beat the Romulans. But then again, he didn’t know what the Romulans were hiding behind their fleet. They hadn’t seen a ship like the one that had attacked them on the way to Babel since then, but there could be another one out there. Being developed so they wouldn’t need another Aenar. Jon didn’t much like the thought. He continued to think about it as he wordlessly entered the shuttle and let Shran pilot it back to  _ Enterprise. _

By the time they had gotten from Tellar all the way to Argelius, the Andorians had rebuffed the Romulans enough that they had retreated somewhat.  _ Enterprise _ assisted with a few repairs, but they were soon headed to the next stop. Patrolling Tau Ceti. 

It was uneventful to say the least. Until now. Jon was sitting in his ready-room, with T’Pol at his shoulder. Ambassador Soval was on his screen.

“Are you sure that T’Pau won’t change her mind?” Jon asked. “Vulcan will not provide any aid?”

“We will continue to pursue trade with you, as our trade agreement dictates,” said Soval. “But Minister T’Pau and the rest of the Vulcan High Command will not enter the war unless the Romulans threaten Vulcan.”

“The Romulans  _ are _ threatening Vulcan!” Jon was beyond frustrated with this. “If they take control of this sector, Vulcan will be at risk.”

“The High Command does not see it that way,” Soval said in a firm manner. “Good day to you, Captain, Commander.”

Soval blinked away and Jon cursed. 

“I told you this is the decision they would make,” said T’Pol, opening the door so they could make their way to the captain’s mess.

“That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

T’Pol, wisely, did not respond. They walked in tense silence all the way to the mess and when Jon opened the door, dinner was on the table and Shran and Trip were waiting.

“So?” asked Trip.

“Nothing good,” Jon said, dropping into his seat. He angrily picked up his fork and knife and began cutting at his porkchop. 

T’Pol sat down more delicately and calmly explained everything Soval had said. Trip cursed in response and Shran’s face darkened.

“Of course the Vulcans wouldn’t see fit to help their allies when they’re at war,” said Shran and he said something in Andorian that didn’t translate. Jon was pretty sure it was an insult. Nobody said anything after that, but T’Pol seemed to be the only person in the room who wasn’t in a stormy mood. The atmosphere was broken as the door buzzed and Hoshi came in.

“We’ve gotten news from Tellar,” she said. She was out of breath, like she had run from the bridge. Trip and T’Pol both looked up, Shran’s hands froze where they were cutting his pork, Jon’s fork was stopped halfway to his mouth. “They’ve declared war on the Romulans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sorry if this chapter is a bit dry in some places, but there is an actual story going on here that’s not just Shran and Archer.
> 
> \- I do want to explore Archer and T’Pol’s friendship a bit more than the show did, I do want T’Pol to open up about her addiction, but that will probably come later.
> 
> \- I’m working on fleshing out the Andorians a little more, as seen in Archer and Shran’s conversation after the battle in Alpha Centauri. I think Star Trek is bad at showing species with a culture beyond what it appears at a glance. The Andorians were allies with Earth and they were one of the founding members of the Federation, I really don’t think they’re the warmongers Enterprise makes them out to be.
> 
> \- I completely made up the Tellarites’ government, there’s no indication of what it might be like in Star Trek so I took the liberty of doing it myself. 
> 
> \- The reason that the Vulcans are staying neutral (for now) is because T’Pau did pretty much take over the government and she is a pacifist so I don’t think they would be interested in joining an interstellar war. (And they did refuse any help during the Xindi crisis so it’s not exactly out of character…)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war takes a turn Archer wasn't expecting, the crew of _Enterprise_ says good-bye to one of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! I'll apologize in advance because I'm fully expecting chapter five to be late. I saw a tumblr post about tribbles in Club Penguin and well, adhd, so I've been playing Club Penguin for three days straight and chapter five kinda got put off. It will come though.

The first weeks of the war stretched into the first months of the war and it soon became apparent that this wouldn’t be over quickly. Jon walked towards an airlock, flanked by Malcolm and an entire squadron of MACOs. They had captured a Romulan freighter; it seemed harmless enough, but you could never tell with the Romulans.  _ Enterprise _ had disabled it and docked with it. Jon was sure that the Romulans would be waiting for them with phasers on kill but Jon and the MACOs were prepared. This would be the first time they would see a Romulan, and Jon was sure Malcolm was ready to see whatever alien was behind the mines that drove a spike through his leg.

The airlock slid open, and phaser fire was already hitting the wall at the end of the corridor. Jon and the others had their backs pressed to the walls and were thankfully out of the line of fire. Jon didn’t manage to get a good look at their faces until they had finally stunned all of them and-

And they were  _ Vulcan _ . Jon shook his head, of course they weren’t. The slanted eyebrows and the pointed ears were familiar,  _ so _ familiar. But they  _ weren’t  _ Vulcan, of course they weren’t Vulcan. Earth wasn’t at war with Vulcan, Earth was at war with the Romulan Star Empire. And two of those Romulans had defined ridges on their forehead, and those were definitely not Vulcan.

Malcolm and the MACOs seemed equally shocked, and they glanced from the Romulans to Jon and back again. 

“Take them to the brig,” said Jon finally. 

Each Romulan was slung over a MACOs shoulder and taken away. Malcolm fell in with Jon as they walked to the bridge. When they entered the turbolift, Malcolm turned to Jon, confusion clear on his face.

“Sir, those were-”

“No, they weren’t.” That was the best Jon could do on the spot. He couldn’t imagine the rampant distrust that would circulate if the crew thought the Vulcans were against them, if they thought  _ T’Pol _ might be against them, if she were a spy. It’s not like he could keep this information under wraps, not forever. But right now, he wanted to prevent that divide from ever happening. “Lieutenant, I don’t want this to be spread around. Not right now. It would be a fiasco and a blow to morale we can’t afford.”

Malcolm paused, then nodded once. “Of course, sir.”

“I’ll talk to T’Pol about what she knows,” said Jon. “But for now we work under the assumption that the Romulans and the Vulcans are in no way, shape, or form, related.”

“Understood,” said Malcolm. “I’ll speak to the MACOs right away.”

Jon nodded in acknowledgement and stepped off the turbolift. “Commander T’Pol, with me.”

T’Pol stood, leaving the chair for Malcolm to take if he wanted it. Once the door slid shut behind them, Jon faced the window and clasped his hands behind his back.

“What do Vulcans know about the Romulans?” he asked slowly. 

“The Vulcan database has very limited information about the Romulan Star Empire and its citizens,” replied T’Pol. “We know they are very suspicious and xenophobic. They never let other species see them.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes.” T’Pol’s face was blank as Jon turned to face her. “If I may ask, Captain, why are you asking this now? Was it something in that freighter?”

“There were Romulans on board, as expected,” said Jon. “They look very Vulcan, T’Pol, they look like you.”

T’Pol didn’t reply for a long moment, she turned away from him and sat down.

“T’Pol, what do you know?”

T’Pol let another moment slide by.

“T’Pol!”

“There have been suspicions in the High Command about outside influence,” said T’Pol. “Of Vulcans who weren’t Vulcans.”

Jon’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Why didn’t you ever say anything before?”

“It could never be proven,” said T’Pol. “It is not preferable to spread inconclusive information. There was never any evidence to support it, any suspicions were dismissed.”

“What do you think now?”

“If Romulans really do share an appearance with my people, considering we know the Romulans to be manipulative, it would not be illogical to assume that there could be some interference.”

“Every decision they’ve ever made, how do we know the Romulans weren’t manipulating us from the start?” asked Jon. “Slowing down the development of our warp drive, refusing to help us during the Xindi crisis, invading Andoria.”

“The implications of Romulan influence in the High Command are serious,” agreed T’Pol. 

“How do we know that the Romulans are behind the decision to stay neutral now?”

“I believe the High Command under T’Pau would be less prone to Romulan Interference than the previous government,” said T’Pol. “T’Pau encouraged the treaty with Andoria and sent help against the Romulan drone ship.”

Jon nodded, seeing the sense in that. “You’re right,” he said. “It wouldn’t make sense, it would go against their plans to destabilize the region.” 

He sat down in his own chair, mulling over the information he had just been given. “That still doesn’t explain why you look like the same species.”

“I would prefer not to speculate,” said T’Pol. “But there are records of-”

She was interrupted by the sound of a tactical alert. By the time Jon got to the door the turbolift doors were sliding shut behind Malcolm. 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“A MACO was shot by one of the Romulans,” said Travis. “There’s phaser fire outside the brig.”

Jon swore and slammed the button for the turbolift. It seemed to take hours to return and then for it to travel all the way to F-deck. When he got there, two MACOs were slumped on the ground and Phlox was running down the hall towards them. 

_ Please, please, please _ . Jon turned one over and placed two fingers against her neck. Her pulse fluttered under his fingers. She moaned in pain as he picked her up. Her uniform was burned through on her side and the flesh Jon could see was dark red and charred. Phlox ran his scanner over the other one and then shook his head. 

Jon pushed it out of his mind and began to carry the MACO after Phlox towards the infirmary. Shran met them halfway to the turbolift. 

“I was in the armoury,” he said. He looked down the hall to the dead MACO and then to the one in Jon’s arms. “What’s happening?”

“The Romulans didn’t stay stunned as long as we expected,” said Jon. He jostled the MACO slightly, her name was Reena. Reena Lin. She was friendly; she made a lot of stupid jokes that weren’t really funny, but everybody laughed anyway. If she had the chance to choose movies for movie night, she would always choose a cheesy chick flick that made everybody groan. She wouldn’t die today. Jon looked down at her. She wouldn’t die today. “Stay with me, Private.”

They stepped out of the turbolift and were moving as fast as they could towards the infirmary. He laid her down on one of the beds, two others were already full.

Trip was there, leaning over an ensign in engineering red. He looked alright, but he had a dark purple bruise across his cheekbone. 

“Captain,” he said. “The Romulans are gone, they took a shuttle pod. I was in the launch bay but when they hit me I blacked out. Marazzi and Dunnings are dead, they shot Marazzi in the face and Dunnings was too close to the doors when the bay decompressed.”

Jon’s chest clenched. “Where’s Malcolm?”

“He went back to the bridge,” said Trip. 

Jon turned and hit the intercom. “Malcolm, if you can get eyes on them, blast the bastards out of the sky,” he ordered. “They sure as hell weren’t actually running a freighter.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Malcolm. 

It only took a few moments for Malcolm’s voice to come through again. “Blown to pieces, sir.”

“Good work.” 

Shran and Trip both looked satisfied and relieved at the news. Jon’s own satisfaction at the news made something ugly squirm in the pit of his stomach. He ignored it and glanced at Private Lin again. She was unconscious, Phlox was leaning over her.

“Save her, doctor,” ordered Jon.

“I will certainly do my best.”

“I’m going back to the bridge,” said Jon.

Trip and Shran exchanged a glance as Jon started to leave. Shran jogged so he could walk beside him.

“Archer,” his voice was soft, quiet, like he was speaking to a spooked animal. “You’re covered in blood. You should change.”

Jon looked down, sure enough the front of his uniform was dark and wet.  _ Reena’s blood. _ He stumbled and felt Shran’s arm wrap around his arm to prevent him from falling. Shran looked around the infirmary then carefully guided Jon out of the room. Instead of taking him to the turbolift, Shran went to Jon’s quarters. He pushed Jon to sit on the bed then disappeared into the bathroom.

Jon didn’t wonder where he had gone. He should have known that bringing the Romulans onto  _ Enterprise _ would only do more harm to his people. Three dead. Because of Jon’s decision. If he had just killed the Romulans when they came on board instead of stunning them Marazzi and Dunnings would still be alive. His nails nug into his palm as he curled his fists. The phasers were on stun when the Romulans had stolen them, they had taken the time to change the settings before they shot his people. Jon felt sick.

He felt a warm cloth on his face, wiping at his cheekbone and chin. Shran discreetly pulled the cloth away to prevent Jon from seeing what he had wiped away, but Jon caught a flash of red. A moment later, a fresh, folded uniform was pressed into his hands. Shran’s message was clear,  _ change. _

“If I had just killed those Romulans when they came on board, they wouldn’t be dead.”

“You’re not that kind of person, Archer,” said Shran. When he saw that Archer wasn’t going to change, he started pulling at the uniform’s zipper himself. “I won’t pretend to try to understand, on my ship that freighter would have been blown to pieces as soon as we saw it. But that doesn’t matter.”

Jon pulled away and stripped out of the bloody uniform himself, turning away from Shran so he could put on a fresh undershirt. 

“If you start changing who you are during a war, the Romulans win.” Shran’s voice was soft. “You pinkskins aren’t suited to war.” He paused. “I hope you’re never suited to war.” It was an admission. “It’s something you don’t see often. It’s something you should preserve.”

“If I were more suited to war, then my officers would be alive.”

“Maybe, but war is an ugly thing whether you’re suited to it, like I am, or not,” Shran reached out and straightened Jon’s uniform. “Go back to the bridge, I’ll go to the infirmary and tell you as soon as Doctor Phlox has Private Lin’s prognosis.”

Jon searched Shran’s face, seeing nothing but sympathy. Normally Jon didn’t want it, but it was different on Shran’s face. “Thank you,” he murmured. 

“It’s not like I have an actual task,” said Shran and Jon cracked a smile.

~~~

Shran ended up coming to Jon on the bridge an hour later to tell him that Private Lin was in stable condition and would likely make a full recovery, granted she got plenty of rest. It had come as a massive relief. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for a new stressor to take its place.

“I know it doesn’t make sense, Admiral,” said Jon. “But I sent you the footage. The Romulans  _ look _ like Vulcans.”

Admiral Gardner leaned back in his chair, peering at Jon through the screen.. “Speaking of the footage, Command has a request,” he said. “We can’t order anybody to do this, but it would be a massive advantage.”

“What is it?” asked Jon.

“We’ve been talking about infiltrating the Romulan ships,” said Gardner. “Long-term. Until now nobody has seen a Romulan, nevertheless captured a ship.”

“Who did you have in mind?” he asked. “Lieutenant Reed has experience with black-ops.”

Gardner shook his head. “Reed is an excellent tactician and more experienced in interstellar warfare than any other human, we need him,” he said. “We want to send somebody who has skills they can offer a Romulan ship. Somebody like an excellent pilot.”

“You want Mayweather.”

Gardner nodded. “They want Mayweather.”

Jon didn’t like it, he didn’t like it at all. Travis was still a kid. “I don’t like it,” he said.

“To be honest, Jon, neither do I,” said Gardner. “But you can’t deny that the Romulans have some kind of surveillance and intelligence gathering skills we don’t.”

That was true, the Romulans always seemed to be one step ahead of the Coalition. They always seemed to know where the Coalition was going to be and where they were going to attack just a moment before they got there. Jon leaned over to the intercom. “Ensign Mayweather to my ready-room,” he said. 

“On my way, sir,” came his reply. 

Two minutes later Travis had sat down across from Jon. 

“You want  _ me _ to go undercover?” asked Travis.

“Nobody can order you to do it, Travis,” said Jon quietly. “You can say no, you don’t have to do this.”

Travis shook his head. “I’ll do it,” he said. “What do I need to do?”

“Travis, are you sure?” asked Jon. “Do you realize how dangerous this will be?”

“Yes, sir, I think I do,” said Travis. “But if they think they need me, then I’ll do it. What do I need to do?”

~~~

The plan ended up being extremely convoluted. They wanted the least amount of people involved as possible. The list of people who knew what was happening was short- Admiral Gardner (who wouldn’t even inform the rest of Command), Jon, T’Pol, Hoshi, and Malcolm. And Travis, obviously. The first thing that happened was the following: Speaking about the capture of the Romulans and their appearance became an offence amounting to treason. The capture and escape of the Romulans was deleted from every report and every file, the three MACOs died of exposure when a Romulan attack ruptured the hull. They had found an empty Romulan Freighter and were studying it.

The second thing to happen was this: Travis had a week to familiarize himself with the Romulan freighter, every control, every part of the engine. At the same time, he also learned Romulan from Hoshi and developed a code with her. 

And the rest was- well, the rest was a tragedy, of course.

“All set, Travis?” Malcolm asked.

“Sure, lieutenant,” said Travis, standing at the airlock. “I’ve always wanted to pilot a Romulan ship.”

“Alright, good luck, I’ll be on the bridge to keep track of your progress.” Malcolm reached out and shook Travis’ hand good-heartedly, his face unreadable.

Jon turned. “Be safe out there,” he told Travis. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks, we can’t help you if you get into trouble with all that Romulan stuff.”

“I’ll be careful, sir,” said Travis.

He stepped through the airlock and into the Romulan ship, the doors slid shut behind him. Jon turned around to head back to the bridge, meeting up with Trip on his way there.

“You sure it’s a good idea, letting him do this alone?” asked Trip. “I’d rather be on there with him, watching those engines. I know it’s just a test flight, but still.”

“He’ll be fine, Trip,” said Jon. “Come up to the bridge with us, and you can watch him.”

Trip nodded and joined him in the turbolift. Jon sat in his chair, trying to calm his racing heart. 

“Permission to disembark, Captain?” Travis’ voice came steadily through the comm.

“Permission granted, ensign,” said Jon, trying to keep his voice even. “Fly well.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jon watched on the viewscreen as Travis piloted the freighter away from  _ Enterprise. _ He did a few loops and weaved between the asteroids in the field  _ Enterprise _ was positioned near. 

“He’s lookin’ good,” said Trip and whistled. “He’s got that thing mastered.”

“Yeah, he does,” murmured Jon.

They watched for a while and Travis continued to maneuver around the field and around  _ Enterprise _ . Suddenly, his voice came through the comm, panicked.

“I think I activated something,” he said. “I can’t shut it down. It looks like some kind of auto-destruct to prevent anybody from hijacking the ship.”

“How long do you have?” asked Jon quickly. 

“Less than a minute, sir, I’m not sure,” said Travis. “Captain, I don’t think I can stop this.”

“Malcolm, get him out!”

Malcolm nodded and scrambled at his controls, he seemed to be trying to get a transporter lock on him. His hands were flying over his station. “I can’t get a lock, sir.”

“Captain-” but that was the last thing Travis said before Jon had to look away from the viewscreen as a burst of fire and gas exploded right in front of  _ Enterprise _ . When it cleared, there was nothing left, not even debris. 

“Travis?” Trip’s voice cracked around the name. “Travis? Mal, did you get him?”

Malcolm slowly shook his head. “He’s gone.”

“I’m reading nothing but very fine particulates,” reported T’Pol.

“Well, it must be somewhere,” said Trip urgently, desperately. “A ship doesn’t leave nothin’ when it blows up. There’s always debris or something.”

“Not necessarily,” said Malcolm. “Romulans have technology far more advanced than us, I’d imagine they don’t want anybody to get their hands on a single piece of Romulan scrap metal. It must have been designed to leave nothing but residue.”

Trip, turned to Hoshi. “Hoshi, is there anything?”

Hoshi just shook her head, her eyes wide and welling with tears. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Trip turned to Jon. “I told you to let me on there to help him!” He shouted. As Jon stood, Trip reached out and shoved him backwards. “You should have let me on there, I could have stopped it. He would still be here.”

Malcolm raced around his station and grabbed Trip, wrapping his arms around Trip to prevent him from pushing Jon again. 

“He’s just a kid, Mal.” Trip shook, turning so he could bury his face in Malcolm’s shoulder. “He was just a kid.”

“I know, love,” said Malcolm. “I know.”

Jon sat back down slowly. Travis was beyond them now, he was gone. Jon could hardly believe it was real. Travis was so young, so excitable. And he was gone.

~~~

“Travis loved this ship and its crew as strongly as he loved his own family. He was part of  _ this _ family,” said Jon. He stood above the rest of the crew as they gathered around an empty casket. Travis wasn’t in there, but they would launch it anyway, in his honour. “Although he didn’t die in battle, his death was a sacrifice- one he willingly paid. The knowledge we gained from his death will carry us forward in our fight for Earth. We must never forget what he did for us, not only now, but from the moment he began serving on  _ Enterprise _ . His smile and spirit brought us joy in our darkest moments. As pilot and navigator, he guided us through so many of our trials and protected us over and over again. I can only hope that he will continue to guide and protect us from wherever he is.

We will go forward in our fight with renewed purpose and more strength than ever. Travis Mayweather’s death will not be vain and his memory will not be dishonoured.”

He nodded. Below him, Trip wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He, Malcolm, T’Pol and Hoshi picked up the casket and loaded it. They stepped back and the crew watched Travis’ casket disappear into space. 

Shran stepped forward from where he was standing behind Jon. He let his hand rest on Jon’s back. “I’m sorry, Archer,” he said sincerely. “I know how much you cared about Ensign Mayweather.”

“Thank you,” said Jon. 

The crew began filing out of the room, headed to the mess hall for a more personal memorial. When the room was empty, Jon finally followed, with Shran at his side. They walked in silence, Jon stewing in his own thoughts. He was supposed to be grieving. In a way he was, he really did worry about Travis. It was likely Jon would never see him again, and he did sacrifice himself for Earth. But he wasn’t  _ dead _ and that made all the difference. 

Jon felt guilty too, guilty for lying to Trip and the rest of the crew, guilty for making Malcolm lie to his own fiancé. He knew it was for Travis’ safety, but seeing Trip’s face when he thought Travis had died made his gut wrench.

Chef hadn’t prepared any food, but people were getting drinks. The room was filled with quiet murmurs- the crew exchanging stories and memories.

“Your eulogy was beautiful, sir,” said Malcolm, his arm around Trip’s waist.

“I just said what I was feeling,” replied Jon. “That’s what Travis deserved.”

Malcolm nodded and moved away. The evening ticked by slowly, every second making Jon feel worse and worse. Hoshi shared a shockingly tearful story about her and Travis when they went caving together last shore leave, and Hoshi got stuck and Travis had to cut away the rock around her with a laser-cutter, and the entire time Hoshi wasn’t worried or scared because he made her laugh and smile even when the laser was only a centimeter away from her skin. Jon wasn’t sure if Hoshi was just far better at acting than he gave her credit for, or if she really was grieving his absence. He was leaning towards the latter.

After all, the chances of Travis truly coming back from this alive were slim. If the Romulans ever found out who he truly was, Jon imagined Travis would be dead within hours. Jon was already regretting sending the young pilot on a mission that would almost certainly be traumatic, if not would result in his death. Jon pushed away the thought and got a drink, glad Chef had brought out the stash of alcohol that was normally locked away. 

Shran didn’t move from Jon’s side the entire evening. Where Jon went, Shran was only a step behind. It was almost annoying, in a comforting sort of way. He could feel Shran analyzing him, trying to figure him out. He knew that Shran knew that something was off. But Shran didn’t say anything, he just offered his presence and his comfort, silently. A hand on his back, pouring another glass for him, acting as a buffer between Jon and anybody who tried to talk to him, Jon was grateful for it all. Eventually, people started trickling out of the mess hall to their quarters. Finally, only the senior staff remained. Jon sat down at a table, everybody else joined him. Trip disappeared for a minute coming back with six shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He filled each glass.

“To Travis.” Trip stood, holding up his shot.

There was some scraping as chairs were pushed back so everybody else could stand, picking up their own glasses. Even T’Pol, although she looked dubious. “To Travis,” everybody echoed.

_ To Travis. _ Jon knocked back his shot, feeling it burn all the way down his throat. It felt good. The shot glasses were settled back on the table with six resounding  _ clacks! _ Nobody said anything as they left the room, trudging down the hallways to their quarters. 

Shran followed Jon back to his room, picking up Porthos as the beagle came up to his feet. As soon as the door was shut all the way behind them, Shran spoke. “Mayweather isn’t dead, is he, pinksin?”

Jon huffed, rubbing a damp cloth over his face. “Am I that obvious?”

“I like to think nobody else watches you as closely as I do,” said Shran. “Where is he?”

“He may as well be dead.” Jon paused, watching Shran carefully. “And I actually can’t tell you where he is.”

Shran seemed to understand. “Mayweather is smart, he’ll be alright.”

“I hope you’re right.”

~~~

It took less than two days for Hoshi to approach Jon and silently hand him a padd before returning to her station. The top half of the screen was a bizarre mix of letters from numerous different alphabets and numbers, as well as symbols Jon didn’t recognize. The bottom half of the screen had clearly translated the scribbles above.

_ MADE IT. NO SUSPICIONS RAISED. AM NOW SERVING ON THE CHR D’JAREK, A SCOUT SHIP. CURRENTLY NO ACCESS TO INTELLIGENCE OR BATTLE PLANS. T.M. _

It was like a weight had been lifted off Jon’s chest. Travis was alright, for now. He was alive. He let out a breath he felt like he had been holding for three days. He looked up, Malcolm was watching him, a question in his eyes. Jon allowed a small smile and a nod, Malcolm’s shoulders relaxed and he looked back at his station. T’Pol noticed the action, catching the gist of it. She gave no sign of acknowledgement, but Jon thought he could see a line of tension in her back relax as she turned to her sensors. 

Shran stepped onto the bridge and down the step to stand beside Jon, he glanced down at the padd, only for a moment. Then he settled on gazing out the viewscreen, his warm hand settled on Jon’s shoulder briefly before moving to rest on the back of his chair. Jon tapped at the padd, deleting the message and then turning the padd over so he could completely scrub the device of its memory. Three stilted sentences made more of a difference than entire speeches, entire novels. Travis was okay, and he was making a move on behalf of an entire planet, billions of people. 

Jon wondered if Travis knew that he was giving the entire Coalition an edge over the Romulans, a hope of winning the war. Jon remembered T’Pol’s words to him that day before the  _ Ushaan _ \- it seemed so far away now.  _ One man can summon the future. _ T’Pol and Daniels both seemed to think that man would be Jon. Maybe it would be Travis. Jon could theorize that he quote didn’t mean that the weight of the future rested on one person, but rather that every person had a part to play in the grand scheme of the universe. Him  _ and _ Travis. And T’Pol and Hoshi and Trip and Malcolm. Jon looked around at his crew, his  _ family _ . He looked at Shran. And Shran too, could summon the future. 

Jon nearly rolled his eyes at himself, what was he doing combining Vulcan philosophy with his own sentiments? Well, he probably just needed some sleep. Still, maybe he would indulge a little before heading to bed. He glanced around at his crew again, grateful for their presence, even if he  _ was _ leading them into war. He nodded, just the tiniest bit with an even tinier smile.  _ Thanks, Travis. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -In the original series episode Balance of Terror, Spock notes that throughout the entire Earth-Romulan war, no human ever saw a Romulan. In fact, they didn’t ever see a Romulan until that tos episode. Even the treaty was drafted by audio. So I’m more or less keeping that in mind, even though I think it’s a little implausible. (Spock also said they used nuclear weapons to fight the war, but I’m calling complete bullshit on that because in ENT we see how far technology has come). I don’t really know if you can actually make the mention of something like that treason, but they did something similar in Discovery so I’m going to run with it. The idea is that officially humans never saw Romulans, even though the MACOs, Jon, and Malcolm actually did but can’t acknowledge it for Travis’ safety.
> 
> -I've got it in my head that Jon really really _really_ doesn’t like it when he loses crew-members, to the point where he can’t reconcile it as much as other captains do because to him, there was never supposed to be war or conflict- it was only ever supposed to be exploration. Unlike other captains who have been taught to anticipate conflict and some of whom have fought wars and battles before.
> 
> -I’m pissed about how the writer’s treated Travis, so I’m giving him a big role. This fic is 100% from Jon’s POV so we actually won’t see much of Travis- I’ll consider writing some side-stories for him though.
> 
> \- The first few chapters really are about Jon coming more to terms with the war and his role in it, at the end of this chapter you can see Jon becoming more comfortable with leading his people into a war not all of them might come out of alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know of any mistakes/typos, all mistakes are my own.


End file.
